A Formal Arrangement
by Requ
Summary: AU. Elsa and Anna are the heiresses of different kingdoms and are married as a result of a betrothal arranged years prior. No incest, but definitely Elsanna.
1. Chapter 1

There'd been some debate among Arendelle's advisors prior to the wedding about who the groom ought to be, but it was unanimously decided that Queen Elsa would be given that she was simply taller. She also had a more regal bearing that complimented well as groom to Princess Anna's bride and it went well, didn't it, that Arendelle, being the larger nation, would be the masculine to the smaller Corona. There was some lamenting among the public that Queen Elsa would not appear in the beautiful gown that her mother had worn before her, but it was a small sacrifice. A royal wedding was going to take place and the celebration that would follow! And all the fine foods and wines that would be distributed! It was all very exciting indeed.

Queen Elsa came dressed handsomely in the same uniform the previous king had worn, with alterations of course, to suit her slighter frame. There'd been some worrying that she might even cut her magnificent white-gold hair to suit the role, but that fear was assuaged when she appeared at the alter with her mane tamed into a braid wrapped into a bun. Queen Elsa cut a very dashing figure, her white gloves contrasting with the dark military uniform, gleaming medals, red sash and silver sword at her hip.

A few eyed her in surprised admiration, especially those who'd never attended a wedding with a royal female groom, rare as they were. It was a very lovely ceremony, everything having been painstakingly planned down to the last flower petal.

The choir began as soon as Princess Anna entered. The princess was resplendent in her cream-colored silk dress and veil. She walked slowly down the aisle on the arm of her father, King Frederick, with a single bridesmaid carrying her train. The princess was visibly nervous, her cheeks and ears pink, eyes downcast. She was still a lovely sight, though, her rich copper hair loose on pale shoulders and a small tiara glinting in the soft sunlight that streamed in from the stained glass windows above.

When they came to the altar, the princess released her father's arm, adopted a look of ferocious concentration, and took the first step.

The sigh of relief was almost audible from the Corona section of the audience.

Princess Anna took another step.

And then on the third step her luck left her and she stumbled on her dress.

Right into the arms of the queen.

Queen Elsa bore her bride's weight gracefully, her hands cupping Princess Anna's elbows. The princess's cheek brushed one of the ornate medals on the groom's chest in her flight and she jerked back in embarrassment, whispering apologies. The queen gave her a small smile, guided her to the bride's place, took the princess's hands into her own, and nodded to the bishop to begin reciting the banns.

The vows were sealed with a chaste kiss. Princess Anna blushed prettily and ducked her head when every person in attendance stood up and clapped. Queen Elsa allowed another small smile and tucked the princess's hand under her arm with remarkable familiarity, as though she was used to taking on male roles, and nudged her new wife.

The princess caught on and held up her bouquet. The audience let out a cheer. The bride grinned, closed her eyes and heaved with all her might.

The bouquet sailed over heads and down almost the full length of the aisle, but was saved when an eager young lord took a running leap and caught it. He trotted down to the royal couple to proudly present his prize. All enjoyed a good chuckle when he bowed with an exaggerated flourish, straightening to declare, "Long live the queens! May you enjoy all the pleasures of the marital coil!"

And the newly joined heirs of House Arendelle and House Corona left, the sound of church bells and the cheering populace trailing after them to Arendelle Castle.

* * *

Leaning out the carriage window, Anna waved back at the celebrating townspeople, their joy infectious. Everybody looked so happy. Anna was happy. It was her wedding day. She was married to Elsa.

She was now Elsa's _wife_.

As they pulled away and the crowds thinned, the horses going at a brisk pace, Anna sat back against the carriage's plush cushions and looked down to her lap and the ring now on her hand. It was just a simple band of gold, an ancient heirloom stretching all the way back to Arendelle's founding when it was a much smaller kingdom and gold was much more precious. She could see the history in that simple bit of metal, the way it carried all the hopes and promises of countless Arendelle queens. She closed her hand over the ring and, to her left, snuck a peek at her new..._husband? Wife? Queen?_

She wasn't really sure of all the formalities for a same sex marriage, especially a royal one. She could figure it out, she was sure of it. But beyond the formalities...

Anna traced the outline of the queen's profile with her eyes. Elsa was just so... so... Well, _everything_. It was hard to even think of all the words to describe Elsa. Beautiful. Even in her uniform that was supposed to make her handsome, which she was, but she was also beautiful in it. The clean military cut flattered her as well as any ball gown could have. The collar emphasized her slender throat and the graceful line of her jaw. Her complexion was snowy, but not sickly-she'd heard many ladies comment enviously on Elsa's skin. Anna wanted to reach out and touch her cheek, to make sure this was real. Her fingers twitched in her lap.

Elsa noticed her looking and turned to face her, her expression solemn. "I promise that I will do my best by you," she said softly, like an oath.

It wasn't the most romantic thing she'd ever heard, but Anna was old enough to know not every single thing described in novels was real. Coming from Elsa, though, she knew the queen meant every word. She offered her a crooked smile. "I know. I promise, too."

The moment was perfect, just perfect for a kiss. Elsa was looking at her with those gorgeous blue eyes and they were almost touching, Elsa's gloved hand resting on the seat between them, fingers almost brushing her thigh. Anna angled her face up for it, her breath already quickening in anticipation. Just like she'd imagined it as a girl, a lovely wedding, a lovely prince-or queen in this case, but Anna was flexible-and a lovely first, private kiss as a married woman.

Elsa's lids lowered, eyes falling on Anna's mouth. She breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. _Anna_, she thought blissfully. _Anna was hers_. Her queen. Her ring was on her finger and she was _hers_. Her mind was still reeling from the reality of it. She could kiss her all she wanted, bury her hands in that glorious fall of molten copper and... do all manner of things that was not appropriate inside a carriage.

She tried to quell the surge of possessiveness. It was vulgar how much she wanted Anna, but she would not turn into an animal, a slave to her desires. And the wedding night, oh god. It filled her with equal parts of shameful lust and dread. She would... she would... she had no idea what the hell she was going to do, and kissing Anna (_her wife, her beautiful wife, hers, hers, hers) _was not going to help control these urges. Elsa was certain moving too quickly would ruin everything. Anna was innocent.

Then she saw the way Anna was looking at her and her mind went blank.

It started out chaste. A meeting of lips, slightly clumsy from inexperience. Elsa didn't mean for it to be anything other than that. She had expected Anna to pull back. Instead, Anna's lids slid shut and the younger woman leaned into it and Elsa was lost. Anna's lips were soft, so soft. She couldn't help it. She let the kiss deepen, shifting in her seat to cup Anna's cheek with one hand, the other hand clutching at the seat cushion, fingers digging in. Her knees went weak.

Anna's lips parted, puffing out a quick breath against Elsa's mouth. She felt the taller woman tremble and, emboldened, she placed shaking hands to Elsa's chest, trying to find purchase. The uniform was too finely made, though, not a single loose fold to hold and, sadly, no lapels. Elsa released a soft groan at her searching touch and held her more firmly, cradling the curve of Anna's jaw against her palm, gloved fingers sliding through auburn hair to rest against her nape. Her tongue brushed Anna's lower lip and the younger woman gasped, her hands finally finding a place on Elsa's shoulders to grip.

Warning flashed among the stars behind Elsa's closed lids as she coaxed Anna's mouth open. Her right hand, the one that'd nearly torn holes in the velvet seat trying to contain herself, had found its way to the small of Anna's back. Her fingers spread to span _her wife_'_s_ slim waist, greedy to touch as much of her as possible.

At that moment, Elsa despised the barrier on her hands, and found herself wishing the beautiful wedding dress to hell, even if Anna looked like a goddess in it, just so she could feel warm bare skin. And the thought of Anna naked, good _god. _She shivered. _I am not an animal, _she chanted. _I will not..._ The effort was wasted as soon as she felt Anna's fingers dig into her shoulders, coherent thought dissipating like smoke.

Anna clutched at Elsa's epaulettes, not caring at all that she was wringing the fine silk beneath her fingers. If she'd known where Elsa's thoughts were going on her current clothed state, she'd have complied with scandalous rapidity. The carriage interior felt stifling, the air thick, and she'd like nothing more than to yank the dress up over her head, so long as Elsa could keep kissing her like that. Her lips felt swollen and too sensitive, edging on pain. And when they had to part for air, foreheads pressed together and noses touching, Elsa's warm exhales slid over her mouth and made her wonder dazedly what cruel god made people choose between kissing and breathing.

She'd never, ever been kissed like this before, like she was going to be consumed by it and didn't care if she survived. Anna edged herself closer -_to her wife? Spouse? Did she even care what it was called?-_and half-crawled into Elsa's lap with the same disregard for her precious silk wedding dress as Elsa's uniform. She wanted to feel Elsa against her. Her back arched, her body knowing exactly what it wanted and Anna didn't understand it, but she followed her instincts. When her breasts brushed against Elsa's front, they broke apart with a gasp.

They stared at each other, both panting. Elsa gazed at Anna, then swallowed as reality seeped in.. Anna's dress was noticeably wrinkled and there was an enticing blush that colored her cheeks. Her breasts strained against the silk bodice with every breath she took. Her hair was mussed and it was obvious, so obvious, what they'd been doing. No, what _Elsa_ had been doing.

Elsa closed her eyes in deep mortification as some shred of sense returned. _We're still in the damn carriage and I've already assaulted her. _Her brain was still muddled from that intoxicating kiss, so Elsa couldn't quite remember who started it, but was certain it was her fault.

The pair suddenly became aware of the outside world as the tenor of the carriage wheels changed from cobblestone to wood. Anna glanced out the window and the fjord's sparkling water greeted her. They were crossing the bridge from the city to the castle. Realizing where she was-namely, on Elsa's lap-she started with a panicked sound and scrambled off to her side, frantically straightening the wrinkles on her dress.

Elsa covered her face with a hand, embarrassed beyond belief and disgusted with herself.. _Not an auspicious start for our marriage_, she thought. She looked down at herself and while the uniform was a little rumpled, it was nothing compared to the mess she'd made of Anna's dress. And the whole world would see and know she couldn't even keep her hands off her from the trip between the altar and the bloody castle.

_I've already dishonored my wife_, she thought with a grimace. Elsa was humiliated on Anna's behalf. She glanced out the corner of her eye and nearly offered to help, but reconsidered at the last second. She doubted Anna would appreciate her hands anywhere near her person given that she was the cause of the mess.

They both avoided looking at each other. The rest of the ride was suffocating in its awkwardness, but was thankfully short.

As the carriage rolled through the freshly paved drive, Anna cleared her throat.

Elsa steeled herself, expecting a cold admonishment for her behavior. She deserved it.

Anna touched Elsa's shoulder and made vague gestures. "Your uniform," she whispered. "They're... ah..."

The queen frowned, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

Anna gave up and leaned toward her, straightening the mangled tassels on her epaulettes. She was blushing again when she pulled back.

The coachman announced their arrival and liveried footmen appeared at the doors. Ordinarily, the groom, or husband, would remove himself first to help his lady out. But the occasion was special and the quandary just now occurring to the servants-what to do if the queen was now considered a king? She was still female, of course, was she treated now with the deference and customs as a man?

Elsa would have laughed if she weren't trying to escape the carriage as soon as she was able. She waved off the waiting footman's proffered hand and disembarked. She waited just an instant to see if Anna expected her to help her off, then wanted to slap herself. Again, Anna probably didn't want her to touch her. She was an idiot. She rounded the carriage and stood at her side patiently, waiting for Anna to straighten her dress. The servants didn't appear to notice anything amiss, but good servants were discreet.

She sighed, still berating herself. She was an idiot. A great, big idiot with the finesse and libido of a teenage boy.

Anna looked up at Elsa. The queen had her gaze fixed to one of the larger turrets, her cheeks still a little pink. She wasn't certain what she ought to be calling Elsa in front of others now that they were married. She and Elsa hadn't discussed it before. In fact, she hadn't even seen Elsa for the past almost four years before the old king died, living in Corona, waiting to come of age and fulfill the betrothal Elsa's father, King Alexander, had arranged.

The king and queen of Corona, who had always been close with Arendelle's own royal family, had been devastated at the news of King Alexander and Queen Marina's passing. Many had expected the betrothal to be broken after the last remaining Arendelle had disappeared from the public eye entirely, her presence prior often compared to a blue moon.

But then a messenger had arrived in Corona bearing Elsa's seal a year ago with a short missive two years after the disastrous voyage: _Let Arendelle and Corona join families. _

King Frederick had been overjoyed and had Prince Hans's all-but-official engagement with his only daughter broken at once. Hans had been none too pleased about that. Anna had felt the same. She had liked Hans, though she supposed her ire was directed more at how her future was so completely rearranged with all the nonchalance and eloquence of a greeting card. She'd even been making plans about which of the Southern Isles she'd visit with Hans for their honeymoon and that letter-wholly unromantic and not even signed! Or addressed to her!-had decided Anna's life for her.

She'd thrown a royal tantrum about it, of course. It'd been about the principle of the thing, but even if she was a descendent of one of the oldest noble families on the continent, she was still beholden to her father. Her sire had sent her to her room and forbade her to even consider walking past the dining hall, well aware of the possibility his daughter might elope if her temper took deep enough hold.

To this day, Anna thought Elsa should have at least had the courtesy to write her, especially if the matter was regarding matrimony. It wasn't like Elsa didn't know how to. They'd spent many years of their youth communicating by letters, the distance between Arendelle and Corona preventing frequent visits, but near enough for shared holidays. Though the letters from Elsa had stopped after the storm had taken her parents' lives.

Even _still_.

Well, at least she hadn't married a perfect stranger like some of the less fortunate ladies at court. To her understanding, it was usually financially motivated. Arendelle was so far removed from that particular characterization that it was laughable. Extremely laughable. Maybe to the point of tears and rude hooting.

She at least _knew_ Elsa. They'd almost grown up together, to a certain point.

Though that kiss in the carriage was… shocking. Hans had never kissed her like that before. His were… she couldn't believe she was thinking it, but they were actually proper. At the time, she hadn't thought of them as such, fancying herself quite worldly and experienced afterward. But the truth of it was staring her in the face and Anna was forced to admit that Hans's kisses were suited for courtly wooing. Not a passionate romance.

And proper was not the word that could appropriately describe what had occurred between herself and Elsa. Her skin still tingled where Elsa's hands had been. Anna pressed her lips together, savoring that delicious kiss.

Yes, unless one was looking for another grand laugh, that was not a proper, virtuous kiss.

Elsa turned to see Anna watching her with a speculative look. She felt a trifle uncomfortable under her scrutiny and unconsciously fiddled with the sword at her side. Aware of the small army of servants around them, Elsa offered her arm.

"Shall we?"

To her relief, Anna took it without protest or declarations of annulment and they walked together into their new home.

* * *

Prompt:

"YAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSS and one million bonus points if the more powerful person's attempts to convey respect and allow the other person some measure of autonomy/boundaries (AKA NOT JUST CROWDING INTO THEIR MARRIAGE BED AND DEMANDING ALL THE MARITAL RIGHTS) come off as teeth-gritting vague dislike, and the less powerful person's attempts to just stay the fuck out of the way and not be a bother come off as YOUR TOUCH—WHICH I'M OBLIGATED TO ALLOW—DISGUSTS ME and everyone's stewing in misery while being excruciatingly polite and lusting sadly after each other from afar.

OR THE REVERSE, where they have an instant sexual connection (TREMBLING BREATHLESS KISSES IN THE CARRIAGE ON THE WAY BACK FROM THE WEDDING) but both (MISTAKENLY) believe that the other one married them as a last resort and thinks they're . so the same with the distant stiff politeness during the day, but punctuated by NIGHTS OF TENDER PASSION after which both stew in misery that it's just opportunistic sex, nothing more, despite the secret feeeeeeelings they are both developing."

So, basically, there will be a lot of terrible misunderstandings and resulting angst. Please let me know what you think, I would appreciate constructive criticism!

UPDATE-I've recently decided that the story here will no longer really adhere to the prompt and will likely drastically go off into a different direction. You can ignore the prompt for the purposes of the story, but I want to keep it here to show where the original inspiration came from for posterity.


	2. Chapter 2

Kai and Gerda greeted the newlyweds at the doors of the main hall. Both were the heads of the royal household, the butler and housekeeper respectively. Gerda was attempting to contain her joy, eyes bright with unshed tears, and Kai was grinning from ear to ear.

"Such a wonderful ceremony, your majesty," Gerda said to Elsa. She and Kai had attended most of the service and rushed back to the castle to receive the royal couple. "Oh, if only the old king and queen could have seen it! Your father would have been so proud."

Elsa gave a tight smile and nodded. Her hand gripped the hilt of her father's old sword, careful not to allow ice to form on it.

The housekeeper turned to Anna and drew her into a hug. "Oh, my dear," she whispered, pulling back to cup Anna's cheeks. "It's 'your majesty' now! And look at you! How you've grown into such a fine lady and bride. We've missed you so."

Anna grinned and returned the embrace. Gerda had always been her favorite servant when Anna visited Arendelle, sneaking her chocolate treats and keeping her schemes secret, even when she'd made a bad enough mess to warrant a royal spanking as a child. Anna was certain Gerda was the sole reason her bottom wasn't tanned off due to her fondness for the Corona princess, even when she deserved it.

"It's wonderful to see you, too, Gerda."

Kai bowed deeply. "Your majesties," he began, still smiling. "I beg your pardon for interrupting, but the day's schedule is rather full."

"You'll have to change out of that dress," Elsa said, careful not to let her eyes linger on Anna's cleavage. Her mouth suddenly dried as she remembered how Anna had felt in her arms, sitting in her lap. She continued on, her tone brusque to hide the sudden heat that washed over her. "You'll find another dress has been prepared for the evening ball. Gerda will take you."

Elsa watched the housekeeper lead Anna away. When she reached the threshold, Anna looked back and gave her a small smile over her shoulder. Elsa didn't trust herself not do something stupid, so she nodded once and then Anna was gone.

"Your majesty, you have your own change of attire as well," Kai said. He was watching the queen with veiled curiosity. Her majesty seemed tense and he'd seen the way she kept gripping the ceremonial sword like an anchor, the glove stretching over her knuckles.

"Have you decided if you'd prefer the suit or the dress for the evening party?"

"Your majesty?" He prompted when she didn't react.

Elsa finally turned back to the butler. "I have to wear the suit," she said. "I have to dance with her, don't I?"

The butler blinked. The queen sounded distressed about it, which was odd in itself given the amount of effort she'd personally put into planning the wedding; her majesty had decided everything from start to finish, including the dance. Kai had also seen firsthand the weeks the queen had spent relearning every popular waltz and ballroom dance in the male role with the etiquette master. _Performance jitters? _Kai wondered.

"Yes, your majesty," he affirmed.

Elsa's shoulders fell. "I'll go change, then."

Kai watched the queen leave the hall with a frown.

* * *

Gerda took Anna to the Queen's chambers, which was a series of rooms adjoining the King's chambers. Arendelle Castle was now vast and winding and rather circuitous. In its original state, it had been quite small, but as the kingdom's fortunes improved over the centuries, previous monarchs took to adding their own renovations to make the once modest castle into the great labyrinth it was now. Anna didn't mind; she had fond memories of exploring the corridors and hidden rooms, drafty as they were. Quite a few of those recollections did involve her and Elsa getting lost as children, but that was part of the fun at that age. Elsa had claimed there was a map of the castle with all its strange additions somewhere and they'd made a game out of it, like a treasure hunt. She wondered if Elsa ever found it.

Anna smiled, suddenly feeling nostalgic. It'd been so long since she'd last been inside the castle. Custom dictated that the bride and groom live separately until the actual ceremony, so Anna had been staying in a vacant estate built for visiting nobility with her parents instead of being housed in the castle proper as in the past. And now she had her own _chambers_. There were probably attached rooms that she'd never find.

Gerda ushered her into an enormous walk-in closet that rivaled her bedroom in Corona. Anna gaped. Dresses and outfits of every kind lined the walls. None of them looked familiar.

"Gerda, are these the old queen's?" Anna asked.

"Oh, heavens, no. These are all yours, dear," Gerda said, walking to an elegant forest green ballgown displayed on a mannequin.

"The queen commissioned several dressmakers for your wardrobe. Come, come, let's get you out of that and into this lovely dress. I'm sure the wedding gown is heavy, beautiful as it is," the housekeeper continued on, oblivious to Anna's shock. Even Anna could see that the contents of that closet had to have cost a fortune. Then again, Arendelle was ludicrously wealthy. Anna had just never realized how that wealth would manifest itself.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Gerda began undoing her stays. Anna obediently held still.

"You must be busy with other duties," Anna remarked. "You could send in a maid for something like this."

"Oh, the staff won't fall apart without me," Gerda replied. "And I'd like to be here for you, dear. It's not every day you get to see a princess properly married off in a grand royal wedding."

"As opposed to improperly?" Anna snickered. The bodice loosened and she pulled her arms free, the silk falling to her hips. She wore a chemise and drawers underneath.

Gerda tsked as she gathered up the wedding dress and laid it reverently out on a naked mannequin. "You were always so wild when you were girl," she started, lips pursed. "Leading the young princess about on such adventures and getting lost in the castle. We were worried you'd get up to trouble with that boy from the Southern Isles."

"'That boy?'" Anna grinned. "You mean Prince Hans?" Only Gerda could call a prince "that boy" with such distaste.

"Only thirteenth in line to the throne of the Southern Isles," Gerda sniffed, her disdain obvious.

"That hardly compares to the queen of Arendelle." Few could compare to Arendelle's blue blood and Anna could hardly fault Hans for that, though the Southern Isles was a relatively young nation. The Southern Isles royal family was generally viewed as an upstart in the land of revered ancient bloodlines. Their breeding was (in private company) often compared unfavorably to that of rabbits in both quality and frequency, thus Hans's unfortunate place in the line of succession.

"I liked Hans!" Anna protested. Gerda awarded her with another pointed look and held out the green ball gown. She stepped in, careful not to crush the fine lace and silk.

"He wrote me lovely poetry."

Gerda's eyes rolled, but she was behind her lacing up the dress, so Anna missed it. "All the same, you're now the queen of Arendelle." She turned Anna to face her, examining the dress.

"You'll make her very happy," she said, referring to Elsa, her eyes going soft and wet again.

"Oh, Gerda." Anna drew the matron into her arms. "I'll try to. God, I haven't seen Elsa in years. I have no idea what kind of person she is now."

The kiss in the carriage roared to the forefront of her mind as glaring proof of that statement. Her cheeks warmed.

"She's still the same wonderful girl," Gerda said after releasing Anna, careful to keep her face away from staining the silk. She fished out a handkerchief to dab her eyes. "A grown woman now, of course." She patted Anna's cheek, smiling fondly at the former princess she treated as her own daughter.

"You'll discover all the lovely things about her soon enough."

Anna pressed her lips together again, recalling the image of Elsa beneath her, flushed and panting.

"I think I'm well on my way to."

* * *

While Anna was considering how to go about rediscovering her new spouse, Elsa was in the King's chambers trying to do the exact opposite.

Her eyes kept drifting to the door adjoining their rooms. Just beyond the door (and past the Queen's breakfast room, private drawing room and the actual bedroom), Anna would be changing into the green dress Elsa had chosen. She would slide out of the cream wedding dress, wearing only a chemise and drawers and garters and stockings. All cream colored. Elsa knew all of these details because she'd decided to be responsible for everything in order to make Anna's new life in the castle as pleasant as possible.

She'd immersed herself in clothes and fashion for Anna's wardrobe. She had no idea of the sheer number of _choices_ women had to subject themselves to—Elsa had previously allowed Gerda to handle the matter of her wardrobe. Or how many shades of green there were. Even dressmakers had a breaking point when their patron, royalty or not, could not adequately describe which green she wanted. _"I beg a thousand pardons, your majesty," _one of the kinder dressmakers had said with a trace of exasperation, "_but 'in-between fresh summer grass and fern' is not a shade I have. Please choose from one of these samples._" Horrifying, especially when she didn't like _any _of them, trying to imagine how they'd contrast to Anna's hair. Elsa imagined if there was a hell, samples would be waiting for her.

Then she'd redecorated the Queen's chambers in Anna's favorite colors, retaining her sanity only through astute delegation having learned from the dressmaker episode. She agonized over the selection of antique furniture inside, wondering if Anna would even like any of it. Then felt terrible for having considered replacing them—they were her late mother's. In the end, she decided to leave them.

She'd had the entire castle cleaned and dusted, a vast undertaking since her ancestors were consistent in the shared notion that their legacy needed to be permanently stamped into the castle, each generation trying to outdo and outspend the last. She didn't know how it was possible the castle could keep expanding outward like an obese cat. It was practically on an _island_. Where did the land to support it even come from? Were the waters outside that shallow? She suspected that sometime by the next century the battlements that concealed the hodgepodge of dubious improvements would burst at the seams and spill out into the city, gobbling up the bridge and maybe the rest of the fjord, too.

_That'd _make an impression on later generations.

And all these additions meant the equivalent of the annual income of a small country was needed to maintain it, and could comfortably house that same population, too. Elsa's eyes had nearly fallen out of her skull when she'd seen the estimated household costs. No wonder most of the castle was closed off. Even Arendelle's bounty had its limits. Still, the castle would be where her new wife would live and she would make it presentable. Just in case Anna preferred to sleep elsewhere. The thought hurt and made Elsa not want to sleep at all, but she was prepared for it. While her mother and father had not slept in separate beds, there were other ancestors who had. Legend was that one Arendelle king maintained a mistress in one wing and installed his queen in another and neither was aware of the other's existence for nearly a decade.

Elsa thought that tale was more a testament to the discretion of the castle servants at the time and less to do with the vastness of the castle.

She'd hired cooks of varying culinary backgrounds in case Anna enjoyed different types and cultures of food. She'd refurbished the stables and bought a string of thoroughbreds because she remembered Anna enjoyed riding. She'd imported all manner of exotic plants and flowers to harvest in the royal greenhouse. Anna liked flowers, she thought. She was sure Anna had mentioned some fondness for flora, but not what type, so she'd bought every kind she could get her hands on. There were many. She ought to have torn the leaves off a few and shown them to the dressmakers, but by the time she'd thought of it, the wardrobe was mostly done.

Elsa was painfully aware that she was overcompensating. She'd come upon the conclusion late one night in her father's—no, _her_ study now—when she was reviewing the monthly fiscal report. Granted, Anna would be her queen and lavish gifts and gestures were the norm, but looking at the list still made her drop her head into her hands in chagrin. She was trying too hard.

Not that she would ever admit it to anybody but herself and only in moments like now when she was riddled with despair and self-doubt. She was pathetic, staring at the door that would lead (after an arduous trek through three other rooms) to where her wife was dressing, fantasizing about her bare form while wearing her father's uniform. Such was the lengths she was willing to go to please Anna.

She would even dress as a _man_.

It wasn't that she disliked men's clothes. But she certainly didn't make a habit of wearing them and had only done it because it was for Anna. Not that Anna had ever expressed a desire that she wanted Elsa to wear the uniform for the wedding, but... even if they'd been betrothed for years and years, Anna was still a woman who dreamed of a prince, Elsa knew. Elsa understood. So, she did her best to fulfill that dream, even if it was superficial and temporary.

Elsa loved Anna. She'd loved her for _years_ while Anna dreamed of that prince_. _Elsa loved her for so long that she couldn't remember a time when she didn't, like she'd sprung from the womb with her heart already belonging to Anna in some form or another. She'd been in Corona with her parents when Anna came to the world, had been entranced by the babe King Frederick had so proudly presented to his close friends. She'd even begged her parents for a sibling, though her mother had always smiled sadly and told her she could not.

She watched Anna grow and they were the best of friends when they were together. And when Elsa was old enough to know that what she felt for Anna was turning from friendship to infatuation... well. She didn't know what possessed her father to propose the betrothal to King Frederick. The match heavily favored Corona for a single reason: they already had a healthy male heir, Prince Kristoff, who was Anna's older brother. There was no concern of the bloodline being severed. Elsa, on the other hand, was the last Arendelle.

She'd begged her parents to not make Anna her betrothal, even if the thought of marrying Anna made her breathless. She would have swallowed her love and pride and married whichever man they chose. It was her duty. She would have borne a child and continued the line, regardless of how miserable she'd have been.

But if her wife was Anna…

No. She would not dishonor Anna. She'd rather die than shame her.

Elsa swallowed the hard lump that formed in her throat, her vision blurring.

There was a clause in their marriage contract, a very specific clause that Elsa had inserted and made sure King Frederick agreed to. The clause gave her consent as sole representative of House Arendelle to legitimize any children produced by a union between Anna and a male consort. Any child of Anna's would automatically be afforded the same status and protection as though it were Elsa's own. The child would inherit her name. Anna would suffer no punishment, no repercussions, no loss of her royal titles, esteem, status, privilege. She would remain Elsa's wife, free to do as she pleased.

She had, in essence, given Anna permission to break her heart.

* * *

Corona, one year ago

_King Frederick seized the pale girl before him into a bear hug._

_"My god, Elsa, it's good to see you," the king exclaimed. He pulled her back and examined her with a critical eye. _

_"You need to eat more. You look like a damned martyr on death's doorstep."_

_Elsa smiled weakly, aware of the dark circles under her eyes and her wan complexion. She'd glimpsed her reflection on the silver platter that a servant had left next to her while she was waiting for an audience with the king. _

_"I'm sorry, Uncle," she said, her voice cracking with disuse. The king was not her uncle by blood, but she'd always referred to him affectionately as such. "I'll try not to remind you of sacrifices."_

_The king chuckled, though the words were a bit too close to the truth. The last time King Frederick had seen Elsa was over two years ago, a few months before the loss of Alexander and Marina. She looked heartbreakingly somber, grief etched into her eyes. Marina's eyes and Alexander's proud bearing. Too young for such loss, for both Elsa and her parents._

_King Frederick led her to the large desk that dominated his study. They sat, King Frederick behind the desk, the surface having been hastily cleared off when his secretary had informed him that Princess Elsa was waiting outside his door, heels still dusty from travel. She'd arrived unannounced and while King Frederick was glad to see her, he was also confused. Matters had to be urgent for Elsa to leave Arendelle, and in secret no less. _

_"Shall I call for Anna?" He grinned. "She'd love to see you."_

_"No, that's not necessary," Elsa said quickly. "I apologize for the terse message earlier… regarding the betrothal. And not passing on word that I would be coming."_

_"You're always welcome here," King Frederick said gently. "Though you did surprise me. Is aught amiss? I will help to the best of my ability."_

_Elsa reached into her satchel on her lap, fingers brushing the folder of parchment that'd never left her side since she left Arendelle. Papers that she'd read and reread, going over every word, memorizing each sentence and paragraph. Making sure it was ironclad._

_"I'm glad you're still receptive to the betrothal," she began. "That's… partly why I'm here."_

_King Frederick's brow furrowed as he regarded the young woman before him. Even though exhaustion showed on her features, she looked steadily back at him._

_"If you're worried about the betrothal, my messenger ought to be on the road to Arendelle already," he began. "We received your letter only two days past. When did you leave? You must have chased the man's heels to get here."_

_Elsa shook her head. "No, I… it's a personal matter. Well, not personal," she corrected. "It is for both Corona and Arendelle. The marriage contract."_

_King Frederick frowned now, lips pursing. "That contract was already signed long ago between myself and your father. Even if you hadn't sent that letter, Anna has always been promised to you. Of course, if you didn't want to go through with the betrothal, we would have rescinded it."_

_His brows rose. "Are you here to rescind? Was that letter from earlier sent by mistake?"_

_"No! That is… no," she blurted out. "I wish to honor my commitment to Anna."_

_"Were you concerned we would back out, then?"_

_"No, no, I… Forgive me, I am having some difficulty articulating what I mean." Elsa took a deep breath. Her hands were cold and sweaty. She felt numb. "Please give me a moment."_

_"Do you want to hear about Anna?" King Frederick asked after a long silence. He knew his only daughter and Elsa, who he cared for as deeply as his own, were close. Mentions of Anna always brought some levity to Elsa's seriousness and the princess looked like she was facing an executioner at that moment. _

_"Her birthday is in a few weeks. We'd love for you to stay, join in the celebration. Anna would be overjoyed to see you."_

_But Elsa didn't smile as King Frederick expected. In fact, she seemed to look even more grim. _

_"I doubt that. I know she had a… an engagement. To a Prince Hans."_

_King Frederick snorted. "Him? Hardly. I haven't approved any kind of engagement. He's a nice enough sort," the king grumbled, catching Elsa's questioning look. "Polished, good manners. I don't trust him, though. I doubt my girl would be happy with him for long."_

_"I see. Does Anna love him?"_

_"Does it matter? I don't approve and I don't think he deserves her. I won't give her to him." He'd meant it to reassure Elsa, but her expression didn't change at all._

_"I want to amend the marriage contract." She drew out the contents of her satchel and gingerly laid it out on the desk. Her hand was steady now._

_The king blinked at the documents. "What's wrong with the old one?"_

_She was tired, so tired. And numb. She sometimes had to concentrate and place her hand over her breast to feel her own heartbeat and know she was still alive. To make sure her heart had not frozen over from grief and heartache._

_"My understanding of the contract that was agreed upon between you and my father was the standard one for two women entering a marriage with property involved," Elsa started. The words came out smoothly, just as she'd practiced. "With alterations to a few clauses regarding the matter of Anna's dowry, her allowance, land and titles bequeathed to her."_

_"Yes?" The king prompted. Elsa had paused overly long. She blinked several times as though coming out of a trance._

_"I believe my father also removed a particular clause regarding… heirs. And the matter of… companionship."_

_The king stared._

_"Elsa," he started to say, his disbelief evident. "That matter has already been decided-"_

_"I know it has! I want—No. I-I request, with all due respect, to…" Why were her words failing her now? At this very moment, when she needed them the most? She held up her hand and breathed in again. In. Out. In. Out._

_"I request that the marriage contract between Princess Anna of Corona and I, head of House Arendelle, be amended to include provisions regarding heirs produced outside of our marriage and the consequences therein should such an occurrence arise." She recited it without stumbling._

_King Frederick looked at her with sad eyes. "Why would you do this, Elsa? Is this some kind of test? We-your father and I-removed that clause because it was unnecessary. Anna would never-"_

_"Uncle, please. It's not for myself, it's for Anna, for her children-"_

_"But you love her," he said. "I know you, Elsa. It would break your heart if Anna ever did anything like that. Your father knew as well, and that was why we agreed it should not be there. It is a terrible thing, and even if you did include it, Anna would never betray your trust. Anna keeps her promises."_

_"It's not that," she said through numb lips. "I know she wouldn't… stray. But I know she would like children."_

_King Frederick huffed out a breath. "Then adopt."_

_"That's… no. That's not good enough. It wouldn't be a blood relation and you know adoptions can be invalidated for inheritances," she insisted._

_"It would be enough if you simply wanted Anna to raise children."_

_Elsa made a frustrated noise. "It's different. She ought to have her own. It's… it's not the same."_

_"Then explain it to me, Elsa," he pleaded, speaking to the girl before him as he would his own child. "Tell me why."_

_"I am the last Arendelle. I'm all that remains after Mother and Father passed. I should have been betrothed to a prince, a man, someone who would sire the next Arendelle and continue the line. But Father didn't promise me to a prince. He chose Anna. Do you understand? He chose to end our family with me."_

_Horror spread over King Frederick's face. "No," he said at once. "That is not true. He chose nothing of the kind. He wanted only the best for you-"_

_"I will not let Arendelle end with me!" Elsa shouted, knocking her chair over as she snapped to her feet. Frost covered the desk surface, stopping just short of the pile of documents._

_The king sighed. He rose as well and righted Elsa's chair, motioning for her to sit. Instead of returning, he dropped down on a neighboring seat and took Elsa's hands in his own. He winced. They were ice._

_"The best way thing for Arendelle would be to break the betrothal," Elsa said dully. "Find a suitable man, have a child, secure Arendelle's future. But Father chose Anna for me and I don't know why. One of his last wishes was for me to take Anna as wife and I—I want to fulfill that._

_You have my word that I will marry Anna. I want to offer the protection of my name and a future for any child Anna bears. Not for me. I will not bear children. I will not betray the vow I make to Anna, nor do I want to pass this curse onto my children." _

_Elsa closed her eyes._

_"I think that was why he wanted me to marry Anna and remove that clause. The removal was meant for me, even though I would be faithful. So this… this curse will not continue. It will die with me, and so will Arendelle blood, but Anna's will carry Arendelle forward," she whispered._

_King Frederick dropped his head to stare at their joined hands._

_"I will agree to this," he finally said. "But all this pain will be for nothing if Anna refuses to bear a child. She will love you, Elsa, I swear it."_

_But Elsa was already shaking her head. "I'm not who she wants. She'd never say it, but I'm not it." Princes and knights, she thought. Not me. I'm neither. I'm just someone who she had no choice in._

_"I don't know what you think Anna feels, but marriage changes everything, Elsa. I don't want your union to carry this cloud over your heads. And I don't want you to drive Anna away just so Arendelle will have an heir under some mistaken belief that it's for the best."_

_"I will not mistreat her," Elsa promised. "I will love her and take care of her and if what I have to offer is not enough, then she'll have a way out. You see, I am the one benefitting from it. If she leaves and has a child, that child will be cared for. And if she stays, then… then I would still win. I would benefit either way."_

_The king sighed in defeat. "I was wrong. You _are _a damned martyr."_

* * *

_Elsa had stayed the night in Corona. King Frederick would not sign the amended contract until she had rested and thought her decision through again, but she'd known it would not change. She'd managed to persuade him to keep her presence secret and he had tucked her away into one of the guest bedrooms on the opposite side of the castle from Anna's room._

_Luckily, Anna had been confined to her rooms at the time. King Frederick had said she'd thrown a childish fit over the news of their renewed betrothal. If anything, that bit of information only reaffirmed her belief that that clause needed to be included._

_By the next morning, Elsa was ready to leave, still firm in her belief of the amendment. King Frederick had grudgingly signed it, but not before making her watch him escort Anna outside to the stables from her window, claiming she ought to at least see what her bride looked like._

_In the span of only two years, Anna had become beautiful._

_No, that was wrong. She'd always thought Anna beautiful. What had changed was that she'd become aware of her physically._

_Elsa had been surprised at her own body's reaction to Anna. She'd stared hungrily at Anna, appalled at how her gaze lingered on Anna's legs and hips, stared too long at the breasts hidden under the riding jacket. Gazed at her face, how it had matured, losing the last of its baby fat._

_Alarmed at the direction of her thoughts, she'd nearly ripped the contract free from King Frederick's hands in her attempt to flee once Anna was away from the castle. She'd felt like a voyeur. She couldn't put distance between herself and Anna fast enough._

* * *

Elsa glanced at the clock. She'd been standing in the middle of the room staring blankly at Anna's door for the past fifteen minutes, reliving bad memories. The happiness from earlier was gone, leaving her heart heavy, if it was there at all. She tried to summon up the vision of Anna in her wedding dress, walking down the aisle, a realized dream; then her throat closed up as she wondered when Anna would be walking away from her because she found her lacking.

The door suddenly opened.

Elsa and Gerda stared at one another, both going stiff with surprise.

Gerda recovered first and scowled. "You haven't changed yet!" She bustled into the room and closed the door before Elsa could react.

"Your wife has already finished!" Gerda scolded. She herded Elsa to the large bed where her evening attire was laid out.

"Has she?" Elsa asked, dazed. Yes, Anna would be wearing the green dress. "Does it compliment her?"

Gerda gave her an odd look. "You'll see her soon."

She began unbuttoning Elsa's uniform for her since the queen seemed incapable of it, her eyes distant and arms limp at her sides.

"I must ask, but are you all right, dear?"

She seemed to snap out of whatever had been arresting her attention. "Yes. I'm fine. I can dress myself, Gerda. You can go," she said firmly.

The older woman looked like she wanted to protest, but left when the queen gave a shake of her head. Elsa draped the uniform top over the back of a chair, discarded the gloves and pulled the pristine white shirt free of her trousers. She glanced at her reflection.

This was who Anna married. A pale woman masquerading as a man, chest swelling just below the last button she'd left undone at the center. A family heirloom sword at her side, meant for someone who could wield it. For some reason, her father had wanted this.

It wasn't who she was.

With a frustrated sound, Elsa tore the pins out of her hair and yanked the coiled blonde plait down. The sword was unbelted and thrown on the bed, landing with a rattle. With palms pressed to the table, she leaned in and glared at the mirror, chest moving with quick agitated breaths. Long blonde hair fell in uneven layers around her pale face, past shoulders that could never pass as a man's. A feminine face—her mother's face, undeniably aristocratic and with sharper lines from stress and weight loss—stared back.

How could she have ever thought she could convince Anna with something like this? No matter what angle or misdirection Elsa could come up with, she was a _woman_. She was playing at pretend like a child, trying to impress another girl.

A bubble of hysterical laughter rose up. She smothered it with a hand and shook her head at her folly.

She had a full day ahead of celebrations and she needed to change. Wallowing in self-pity would get her nowhere and she needed to get through the schedule, at least for Anna's sake. Anna would have her wedding and party, just as Elsa had planned.

With a sigh, Elsa went to the door to call for Gerda to help her dress for the sake of time, expecting the housekeeper to be hovering outside. But the person at the door she saw, hand oustretched to where the doorknob would have been, was Anna.

Elsa nearly slammed the door shut again, feeling raw and exposed.

"Uh," Anna said, her eyes sweeping down to take in the sight of disheveled and half-dressed queen. Elsa wanted to close her eyes. If ever she wanted to remind Anna that she was a woman… She resisted the urge to yank her shirt shut over her chest.

"Hello. I didn't know where this door was supposed to go to," Anna said. She smiled crookedly, apologetic. "I didn't mean to intrude."

"It's all right." She stole a quick look at Anna's dress. It did suit her, wonderfully. The thought of sample hell was suddenly more bearable.

"You look beautiful," she said without thinking.

Anna blushed. "Thank you." A pause. "And for the dress, I mean. Gerda told me you bought my wardrobe. It must have cost so much."

"You're worth it," Elsa said, again without thinking. She grimaced. Did she have no control over her mouth now? She was just an endless litany of flaws.

But the look of surprise Anna showed her, complete with the rosy cheeks and shy smile, had her discarding the apology. She'd probably bungle that, too. She decided she ought to just keep her mouth shut.

A lock of blonde hair fell over her eye. Anna beat her to it, stepping into her to brush it back. Elsa's eyes went wide, her nerves buzzing at Anna's close proximity. Anna's eyes were on her lips. The queen breathed in sharply, her body leaping in response. Desire made her hands twitch to reach for her wife and hold her tight.

She wanted to kiss Anna again.

Elsa tried to crush the urge. Her hand was still gripping the doorknob, frost making it slippery. She needed to go if she wanted to avoid a repeat of the carriage ride. Now.

"I'm sorry, but I have to finish changing," Elsa forced out, taking a deliberate step back. Retreating into the safety of her room.

"I was looking for Gerda. Is she about?"

Anna blinked, disappointment evident. "She's in the, uh, bedroom. I think. Too many rooms, I might get lost in them." She paused, searching Elsa's face.

"I'll go get her if you want," she said.

Elsa nodded stiffly. "Please. Thank you." Her control slipping, she closed the door a little too quickly in her hurry. She leaned against it, wincing as ice bit into her back through the shirt, waiting. There were a few seconds of silence, but she eventually heard the ripple of skirts and footfalls that faded away. _I'm sorry, Anna_.

She put her face in her hands and smacked her head back against the door with a low groan.

This was going to be much harder than she'd anticipated.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! Sorry about the angst. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

The door opened. Elsa stood at the threshold, her mouth open to say something and clearly not expecting to find her there.

"Uh," Anna said, eyes immediately riveted. She drank in the sight before her—Elsa looked delightfully tousled. Her hair was loose down her shoulders, some sticking out at odd angles from her head. It looked like she'd hastily undone the braid and hadn't attempted to comb it. She still had the white shirt on, but it was half undone and untucked. A cufflink glinted on one wrist, its twin hidden behind the door. It gave her a little thrill to see Elsa not looking perfectly put together. She couldn't even remember the last time Elsa didn't look neat and tidy.

And for some inexplicable reason, that parted shirt and bare sliver of skin was simply commanding all of her attention. Elsa wasn't wearing anything else beneath it, she was certain of that. She fought not to stare and found it a losing battle.

"Hello. I didn't know where this door was supposed to go to," she said. And the fact that she'd found Elsa looking like that… maybe she ought to go exploring more. "I didn't mean to intrude."

"It's all right," she heard Elsa say. She dragged her eyes back up to her face, feeling guilty. _She'd just been ogling Elsa!_ Now that they were married, ogling was probably allowed. _Within reason,_ a voice in the back of her mind added. People were always telling her what she was allowed to do and then tacking on "within reason" at the end. God only knew what that meant. She imagined Elsa would not enjoy being ogled in public before important people. But they weren't in public right now. And if they were, then she'd "ogle within reason."

"You look beautiful," Elsa said, her voice rough. The sound of it scraped nerves that Anna didn't know she had, like sandpaper. Anna's cheeks warmed in response, though Elsa's gaze seemed a bit distant.

"Thank you," Anna heard herself say. Oh, these etiquette lessons really were useful if it allowed her to surreptitiously ogle (within reason) and still appear alert. Master Flynn, Anna's old etiquette teacher, would be so proud of how well she'd learned her lessons. She conveniently dismissed the notion that Master Flynn probably didn't have this particular purpose in mind when he'd made her recite her lines.

She'd forgotten how thick and luxurious Elsa's hair was, the bun having hidden that quality during the ceremony. Her fingers itched to twine themselves into those freed tresses, perhaps to tug her closer. Then she remembered how Elsa had her hand in her hair during the carriage ride, her gloved fingers curled around her neck and Elsa's palm against her jaw. And then _that _invoked the memory of their kiss again, the sensation of Elsa's tongue on her lips and she felt pleasantly light-headed.

She said something complimentary about the generous wardrobe and the expense. She wondered if she could persuade Elsa to kiss her again.

"You're worth it," Elsa said.

She had no idea what Elsa meant or what they were talking about anymore. She'd completely lost track of their conversation, busy thinking about kisses and Elsa being naked under her shirt. Anna was steeped in warmth and was finding things like conversation wholly irrelevant. Especially compared to this completely new side of Elsa that she'd never considered before.

Elsa grimaced.

Anna blushed a deep red; Elsa must have noticed her inattention. She offered up a shy smile in apology, hoping she wasn't angry. Elsa looked like she was going to say more, but decided against it. The taller woman shifted her weight restlessly and a long lock of hair strayed from the rest, draping itself over its owner's face. Before she could think about it, Anna had stepped toward Elsa and guided the wayward curl back to its place. It was soft as silk, slipping off her fingertips coyly.

She heard a sharp intake of breath and couldn't guess who it came from. They were standing close now, close enough that Anna could feel Elsa's body heat. If Anna rose up just a little on her toes, she could kiss Elsa again. She could put her hands on her shoulders without worrying about ruined epaulettes, oh, goodness, it had folds this time, she could grip that instead and even slide her hands under-

"I'm sorry, but I have to finish changing. I was looking for Gerda. Is she about?" Elsa said, her face closed off and cool, taking a step back away from her.

It was as abrupt and stinging as a slap across the face. Anna was nonplussed. She'd thought... Wait, was she the only one who was interested in kisses? Had Elsa not liked it? She attempted to hide her disappointment. "She's in the, uh, bedroom. I think. Too many rooms, I might get lost in them."

Elsa looked at her expectantly and that was when Anna realized she was being sent away. Was Elsa that angry with her? Apparently so."I'll go get her if you want," she said reluctantly. She was wrong. The etiquette lessons had backfired. She wished she'd grown up to be an uncouth savage so she wouldn't have to say the exact opposite of what she wanted to do.

"Please. Thank you." Elsa shut the door in her face.

Anna stared at the barrier, her jaw swinging wide. She attempted to comprehend what just happened, like she'd just solved what should have been a very simple mathematical problem and arrived at an entirely unexpected answer.

She'd never been so soundly rejected before. And she could not appreciate the irony that her first experience would be at the hands of her husband. Wife. Whatever.

Elsa was turning out to be her first in many things. Like illicit passionate kisses in carriages and then being summarily ejected from her _husband's_ presence like Elsa couldn't stand the very sight of her.

Anna spun on her heel and went to find Gerda as she'd been _so kindly asked to._

And Master Flynn could go to hell.

* * *

"Did you two have a disagreement?"

Elsa stood in front of the mirror tying her cravat slowly—she was out of practice. "No." She glanced at Gerda through the mirror. "Did Anna say something to you?"

"She seemed upset." It was delivered with more than a trace of accusation.

The queen made a noncommittal sound, squinted at the mirror, and then sighed. The knot was crooked. She'd started to loosen it when Gerda let out a long-suffering sigh herself and motioned for Elsa to turn around.

"It's usually the valet's job to do this," Gerda said, folding the cravat around Elsa's collar. "The valet or the wife."

Gerda would not know what those words did to her, but Elsa didn't bat a lash. "Good thing you're a wife, then. Give Harold my regards."

Gerda tightened the cravat just a little too much on purpose. "You know what I mean," she said sternly. "You shouldn't be fighting on your wedding day."

"No, I imagine we'll have the rest of our lives for that." Or however long it took for Anna to realize she didn't want to be married to her anymore. The look Gerda sent her for that comment, though, had her shoulders slumping. "We didn't fight. I was discourteous. Anna took offense." _Rightfully_ _so_, a voice in the back of her mind said.

The housekeeper frowned at Elsa. "You have excellent manners and you are well bred. Why would you do that to your own wife?"

Elsa shrugged. She couldn't very well say that she had all but thrown Anna out of her room because she hadn't wanted to kiss her. She had wanted very much to kiss Anna again, only Elsa didn't trust herself not to do something else stupid or rash or both. Kissing already counted as both those and more, she just couldn't think of the words right then. Feeling miserable seemed to make up for her lack of eloquence.

"I'll apologize to her," was the best Elsa could manage.

Gerda finished the knot. "There. And good, every marriage should start with a clean slate. Sit, I'll put your hair up."

A clean slate wasn't possible for them—Elsa thought of the clause, the need for an heir, and how those important things had already tainted the marriage before it could begin. It wasn't going to be a real marriage. It was never going to be a real one like her own parents had.

If only things could have gone differently. If only she wasn't the last Arendelle. Well, _she_ was probably the reason why her parents had not produced another heir—for fear that that one would be like her and cursed with magic.

There was the self-pity again. Elsa sighed. She caught Gerda's eye in the mirror.

"It's nothing," she said, anticipating well-meaning prying. She didn't think she could work up the effort to deflect it.

Gerda decided not to comment on the evasion and instead held up a handful of blonde hair. "I think you should leave your hair down for the party."

"I'll look ridiculous. I'm wearing men's clothes for this, if you'll recall." She gestured at the fresh white shirt and vest she wore. "I'm well aware I look nothing like a man, but—"

"Well, of course you don't look like a man," Gerda interrupted irritably. "I'm simply suggesting that you leave your hair down because you would look nice. It'd be an interesting twist." Then, slyly, she added, "Anna likes your hair."

It was a low blow, the aim precise. Elsa had to give her housekeeper credit for that. It made her want to ask about what else Anna had said, or if Gerda was making it up entirely, then she remembered Anna was probably not feeling charitable about her at the moment.

"Does she?" There it was. She hated how she could hear the pathetic undercurrent of hope in the query.

"Oh, she's always admired it," Gerda said airily. "And it's a shame when you put it up. No lady has ever attended a party in a jacket with her hair down. You'll make quite the splash."

"There are no ladies who attend parties in jackets," Elsa pointed out. "And if I make a 'splash', it'll probably be from stupidity. I'll be remembered as the queen who made a fool of herself at her own wedding party. And maybe cause a scandal."

Gerda's brows lifted. "You've already attended your own wedding looking like a man. Why not change it for the party? It's only for one night."

Elsa opened her mouth to refuse.

Then Gerda tossed down the gauntlet. "And if your wife likes it down?"

Silence.

To anybody else, Elsa's face displayed no extremes of emotion and was remarkably impassive given she was being cajoled into potentially scandalizing several hundred people at her own wedding party, but Gerda saw flickers of hope and yearning there that was quickly smothered under an avalanche of defeat. It broke her heart to see her little princess—Elsa would always be her little princess, coronated or not—struggle so, but she firmed her resolve and refused to feel guilty that she was striking Elsa where she was weakest.

"Fine," Elsa finally said. Her tone went cool, her hands folding in her lap. It was her royal negotiation pose. "I'll keep it down, but tied back. Like some men with long hair do."

It wasn't exactly what Gerda was aiming for, but she knew better than to push Elsa. She hummed as she began brushing.

* * *

Elsa didn't appear for the small luncheon that Anna had while waiting for the evening party to begin. Anna told herself she did not care because she was still smarting from that dismissal. Her parents were present, though, and their twin expressions of beaming pride were blinding. Anna was tempted to throw a hand over her eyes to preserve her sight. She settled for glowering at her sandwich instead.

"We're just so happy, darling," her mother, Queen Alice, said. They were somewhere in the Queen's chambers in a drawing room. "You were splendid in your dress, even if you did trip."

Anna groaned. "You don't have to remind me, Mother. _Everybody _saw."

"And after all that practice!" Queen Alice chortled. She was one of the members of nobility who was actually well-liked in person. She found amusement in all things that crossed her path, including her children. It was said that Anna had inherited her sunny disposition, though Anna disagreed—what mother teased her own offspring so mercilessly?

"You did well," her father soothed. "And you didn't trip too far. Elsa did catch you." He beamed at her again, the very picture of a proud papa. Anna squinted against the glare.

"Oh, yes, it was rather romantic, wasn't it?" Queen Alice said. "Elsa looked so fetching in Alexander's old uniform! I wouldn't have imagined it, but it suits her. Excellent tailoring work on that uniform as well, not a single wrinkle or fold out of place."

Anna knew of one very good reason to have a few folds in a uniform. Her face warmed. She cursed her fair complexion as her mother watched her with an interested look.

"I knew it," Queen Alice crowed in triumph.

Anna tried valiantly to control the blush, now cursing her mother for her astuteness and for passing her complexion down.

"Knew what?" Her father asked.

"Our daughter! And Elsa!"

Anna wondered if feigning a swoon might distract her mother long enough to divert her attention away from the subject of her and Elsa. She could see the scene playing out in her mind: she'd flop like a landed fish on the floor and her mother would toe her prone form and maybe lean over to examine her a bit, then conclude Anna was hale and continue on without a hitch. It really had no chance of working—Anna had the constitution of a horse. She'd never fainted in her life and starting now would only give another story for her mother to embarrass her with, probably somewhere along the lines of: _"Oh, that time when Anna decided to take a nap on the drawing room floor! On her wedding day, no less! What a silly dear, sometimes she forgets that people sleep on beds."_

So, like any child about to endure parental humiliation, she hissed, "_Mother!"_

It only encouraged her, of course, but Anna wasn't given to suffering in silence.

"Our daughter likes Elsa in men's clothes," Queen Alice continued. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I shan't tell anyone." Which was such a lie if there ever was one, the sheer audacity of it making Anna's jaw fly open in outrage. At the same time, however, she nearly sagged over in relief. She'd thought her mother had seen some incriminating evidence of the carriage ride kiss, like there was a red flag planted somewhere on her person that proclaimed to the entire world that she'd writhed in Elsa's lap and enjoyed every second of it. She certainly didn't want the entire world to know and if her mother knew, well, she might as well find some hermit cave to live out the rest of her days. Maybe she could share it with Kristoff, wherever he was now.

She was starting to see the appeal of traveling the world and not telling anybody where you were going until you were already there.

"You have lovely molars, dear," her mother commented. Anna clamped her mouth shut, molars clicking together and narrowly missed biting on her tongue. "Elsa is still lovely in dresses. She really does favor Marina, doesn't she?"

"Quite," her father agreed. "The girl needs to put on some damn weight, though. Practically skin and bones."

"Oh, she has a wife for that now," Queen Alice said, grinning wickedly. "Our little Anna will be taking care of her."

"_Mother_," Anna hissed again. Not that it wasn't true. It was just the way that her mother had said it, sharing that private little smile with her father that made Anna frown and want to leave the room.

"I'm sure Elsa will be a lovely husband," her mother placated. "Is the correct term 'wife', though? I find that 'husband' works better after seeing that uniform on her. Goodness, the stares she drew. Did you see them, dear? I thought that French countess across the aisle was going to eat her alive. At a wedding, no less! How shameless, though I suppose one could be forgiven since the groom is exceptionally good-looking."

Anna's eyes widened. _Wait, what? _She opened her mouth to demand her mother to expound on the detail of "that French countess," but Queen Alice pointed to her unfinished sandwich. "You should eat, sweetheart. We wouldn't want you fainting at your own wedding party."

Sullenly, Anna bit in. Best not to ask, she decided. Her mother might interpret any mentions of French countesses as jealousy. Which it wasn't. "How long will you stay in Arendelle?"

"Probably just a few more days," her father answered. "Best not leave the throne vacant for long."

"We'll be out of your hair soon, sweetheart," Queen Alice said. "I'm sure you'll want to spend some time with your new husband." Her parents exchanged that knowing smile again. It made her skin crawl a little.

* * *

Most of the guests arrived to the wedding party by evening. The atmosphere was jovial and excited—the royal couple did involve a famously reclusive queen and another woman. And a wedding between two women! It'd been centuries since that had last happened in a royal family. It was more common amongst the lower class and lesser nobility, but royalty was another thing entirely. There was the whole matter of blood heirs, after all.

And that was one of the most heated topics of discussion that evening.

"If Arendelle and Corona wanted to join houses, why didn't Prince Kristoff marry the queen?" One lady wondered. Prince Kristoff of Corona was not in attendance. Rumor was that the prince was inflicted with a near terminal case of wanderlust and was gallivanting all over the world's remote mountain regions. News had likely not reached him that his sister was marrying yet even though official word was announced almost a year ago. "That would have wrapped up that little issue neatly!"

Another lady shushed her. "Both are next in line to their thrones! And Arendelle and Corona are so far from each other, they'd hardly be able to rule their own countries."

"Arendelle will be in trouble if no heir is legitimized within a few years," the Duke of Weselton was heard muttering to a circle of followers. Weselton's fortunes depended heavily on Arendelle. "Our own trade will be threatened if the kingdom falls apart over something as simple as ascension!"

"I've heard marriage contracts for two women are strange," one guest was heard saying. "That there is room for...openness."

This comment left a speculative gleam in more than a few eyes. Both the groom and bride were attractive. A few laughed privately and said marriage contracts in general were flexible. Mistresses and lovers abounded, after all.

The attendees knew better than to say any of this within earshot of the newlyweds or King Frederick and Queen Alice. It would be their heads as both Arendelle and Corona had considerable clout.

While the main ballroom was abuzz, Elsa waited at the foot of the grand staircase for Anna. Boot heels clicked on the floor as the queen tried not to pace. She tugged at a lapel. Fidgeted, sighed, then crossed her arms over her chest to keep her hands still.

She disliked parties: the socializing, the politics, the veiled meanings behind seemingly innocuous conversation. She'd rarely attended them when she was younger, was excused from them entirely after her parents died, and avoided them again after. This one was her first since her coronation. It also shared the distinction of being her first ball with Anna.

When Anna came down the stairs behind her mother and father, she saw Elsa leaning against the wall, face turned away and hands tucked under her elbows. She was both frustratingly handsome and beautiful again. No more austere military uniform; she wore a white shirt and black vest under a cobalt tail coat. An elegant black silk cravat was tied around her white collar and tucked under the vest. Her long hair was brushed back into a unbraided fall of platinum and secured by simple blue ribbon at her nape. Buckskin-colored trousers accented slim thighs and knee-high black boots polished to a shine completed the ensemble.

Anna still hadn't forgiven her and wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all—couldn't Elsa at least have the courtesy to have some kind of deformity for Anna to fixate on? Perhaps develop a mysterious scar or a wen? Was that so much to ask for? She was aware that her thoughts were taking a ludicrous turn now, and she laid the blame at her husband's well-shod feet.

Elsa noticed them and bowed like a gentleman before the king and queen. "Good evening, Aunt, Uncle," she murmured.

"Oh, my, you are a sight," Queen Alice said, taking Elsa's face between her hands and making her bend down to allow the queen to kiss her cheek. While King Frederick was a bear of a man, Queen Alice was half a head shorter than Anna and just topped Elsa's shoulder. "Anna will have to beat your admirers away."

Anna wasn't sure if she wanted to beat her mother or Elsa or the admirers (a French countess was allegedly counted amongst them) for that comment. Maybe all of them.

Elsa laughed softly, her face warming. She was quite fond of the queen."You are prone to hyperbole, Aunt Alice," she said. "But thank you."

King Frederick clapped Elsa on the shoulder with a grin as though she were his son. "It was a good wedding. You did well with the planning. I understand that you've planned some kind of entertainment for tonight?"

"Something like that," Elsa answered vaguely. Her eyes had drifted to Anna. Her body shifted subtly, coiling like a cat at attention. The king and queen exchanged silent looks and proceeded to the party, leaving Anna and Elsa alone. Neither of the women noticed, but both parents looked over their shoulders with slight smiles.

"Hello," Elsa greeted and bowed. The etiquette lessons made Anna curtsey in response, however reluctant she was to bend her knees. Then Elsa took her wife's hand and brushed her lips over the back of it. She had the white gloves on again.

"I'm sorry about earlier." Her voice was a whisper, her warm breath sliding over the back of her hand. "I was rude."

Anna tried to stay angry. Nobody ought to get off this easy, she thought. It was just unfair that Elsa could win her over so easily with nothing but sincere eyes and soft words. But she found her resistance crumbling against her warm breath and smiled, her stance relaxing. She hadn't even realized she was tense. "It's okay. I guess I surprised you."

Elsa lowered her hand, but didn't release it, her thumb rubbed gentle circles on the back. Anna found it distracting and soothing. "You… caught me at a bad moment. I'm sorry to take it out on you."

For some reason, her heart tripped. Elsa was just so… _much_. She was so sincere and serious and her mother was right, she really was a sight. Despite her clothes, she was absolutely gorgeous, an appealing mix of masculine and feminine qualities. Only four years had passed, but this Elsa was someone completely different than the one Anna remembered. She looked older and more mature, her bearing so regal that it unconsciously commanded attention and respect from those around her, like a lion. No, not a lion, Anna decided. She'd seen a cat in a traveling circus that had come through Corona once. It was smaller than a lion and had a dense white spotted coat and a magnificent tail. The proprietor of the circus, eager to entertain the royal family, had said it was a cat that lived in the highest remote mountains and difficult to find, its fur blending in with the snowy rocks it roamed and strangely incapable of roaring. _A snow leopard!_ That was it.

Anna smiled. Elsa reminded her of that snow leopard, quiet and secretive. And Elsa didn't need to _try _to be beautiful—she simply was. And she didn't need to roar either—her low voice worked quite well for her.

She ought to be jealous that someone like Elsa existed, but Elsa belonged to her and that realization brought another thrill. It made her feel invincible and reckless. Before she could think about it, she said, "Will you kiss me again?"

She could feel the shock jump through Elsa's fingers, but held on before she could pull away. Elsa looked surprised and uncomfortable, cool composure gone, and her gaze averted.

"Anna," she said, taking a step back. Anna followed. "We have a party to go to, we have guests waiting for us—"

"They can wait," she said. "You're the _queen_, Elsa. You can do whatever you want."

She tried to back up again, tugging ineffectually at her hand, but the younger woman refused to relinquish her hold and continued to follow like a bloodhound on the scent.

"I just want a kiss," she insisted. "Is that too much to ask? We're married. It is allowed, you know."

She didn't answer, looking anywhere but at Anna. She was starting to look panicked and trapped as she retreated. Her back hit the wall. Anna stepped into her space and, daringly, gripped her lapels to keep her from escaping. She'd never realized how tall Elsa was. The height difference wasn't all that great, but she found that she liked that Elsa was taller.

"Elsa," Anna whispered. The queen was staring at the space beyond Anna's shoulder with a determinedly blank expression, silent as a grave, and clearly of the mind that if she pretended this wasn't happening it might come true.

Fine. If she was going to be like that, then Anna was going to enjoy the moment and her newfound courage. She started with what was immediately before her. The tailcoat was undeniably well-made, the lapels black satin. She rubbed the material between her fingers experimentally, liking the sound it made. The black vest contrasted well with the blue coat and the white shirt. She wondered if it was the same white shirt as before. And if Elsa still wore nothing beneath it.

Wicked thoughts. Was this what happened when people married? It was like a whole new world was opening for her. She eyed the black cravat and the intricate knot. "Did you tie this, Elsa?"

She watched Elsa's throat work. Finally, the taller woman answered. "No. Gerda helped." Her voice was hoarse.

"My father is not very good at tying his either," Anna said conversationally, as though they might be speaking of the weather. "My mother has to help him sometimes."

Elsa went quiet again.

"I'd help you put yours on," Anna said.

She released a held breath. "Anna, someone could come—"

"Then you'd best hurry up and kiss me," Anna said matter-of-factly.

The queen seemed to struggle with herself, then fixed her gaze back over Anna's shoulder. Stout refusal.

She refused to be offended. "Elsa, do you find me unattractive?"

Her head whipped back to stare at Anna incredulously. "What? No! Of course not!" They were both surprised at the vehemence of the statement. Much softer, Elsa continued, "I find you very beautiful, Anna."

Anna blushed and had to look away. She'd been described as pretty and beautiful and all manner of flowery words before, but there was something about the way Elsa said it that made her believe it. It left her feeling suddenly shy and unsure.

"Why won't you kiss me, then?" She asked, the question sounding more hurt than she had intended.

The lapels rose and fell under Anna's hands as Elsa sighed. "It's not because I don't think you're beautiful, Anna." A gloved hand rose to brush the auburn fringe away from her eyes. Fingers traced her cheek and tipped her chin up, their eyes meeting.

Elsa's expression was inscrutable. "If I kiss you, will that convince you that I think you're pretty and then we can attend our own party?"

Anna had to smile at the tart way that was delivered, knowing there wasn't any real sting behind it. She feigned deep consideration, then nodded gravely. "Yes, I find those terms agreeable. A kiss for a party."

The corner of Elsa's mouth quirked. Then she controlled it and, slowly, bent her head just as Anna rose up.

Their lips met tenderly, sweetly, like a long cherished wish. Anna tried to deepen it, her hands pulling Elsa down to her, but the blonde tempered the kiss, keeping her hunger in check with light teasing brushes that whetted her desire like a knife. Elsa never stayed in one spot for long, her touch subtle, skimming over the corner of her mouth one moment and then returning to press against her lower lip again. Nerve endings sang, coming alive in places Anna didn't know existed. She unconsciously pressed closer to Elsa, melding their bodies together.

And Elsa didn't fight. Rather, her arm curled around her waist just as Anna's knees might give out. The hand on her chin slid back to cup the nape of her neck, careful not to tangle fingers into the bun her hair was styled in this time. And when Elsa swept her tongue lightly against Anna's lower lip, the younger girl shuddered and released a soft groan into her mouth.

When they parted, both of them were gasping. And when their eyes met, it was so heated and sultry that Anna yanked Elsa down again for another. _Thank god for lapels_, Anna thought, dazed. _They ought to be made a national treasure._

Their third kiss was hard and bruising, but short. Elsa broke away this time.

"Anna, no," she said breathlessly. She was leaning against the wall like her own legs couldn't hold her up and her face was heavy-lidded and red. "Not here."

Her heart leapt. "Then later?"

Elsa closed her eyes, expression pained. "I don't know."

"What? Why not? Elsa—"

"Anna, please," she said. She brushed her thumb over Anna's lips to silence her. "It's not that I don't find you desirable. But we can't do this here and now. We have a few hundred guests waiting for us and the longer we stay here, the more likely someone is going to come across and we'll have to deal with our first indiscretion before we can have our first party," she explained, hoping Anna would understand and stop looking at her like that because her own control was barely cobbled together as it was.

Anna studied her for a long moment, chewing on her lip, before nodding. "Okay." She reluctantly stepped back and winced. "Sorry."

Elsa looked down and saw the wrinkled lapels. With a faint smile, she simply smoothed them out. "There. Good as new." She spread her arms. "How do I look?"

"Fine." She wanted to say more, like how she'd like to not go to the party and hole up in some private corner, but Elsa was right. Anna stood back and let Elsa straighten her dress, shivering slightly where her hands touched. It was by no means suggestive, but she seemed to be developing a heightened sensitivity to Elsa's touch in general. Her lips in particular were a prime example.

"You're fine as well," Elsa said when she was done. They simply stood there for a long moment, both aware of how silly they must have appeared to an outsider, but the feeling was so mutual and shared, like an inside joke, that it was hard to feel embarrassed about it.

Then Elsa smiled again, her eyes taking on an unexpectedly playful gleam. She looked so happy.

"Shall we, my lady?"

Anna grinned back and slid her hand under Elsa's arm. "Of course, _my lord_," she returned, warmth filling her.

* * *

A/N: I want to thank all the people who've left lovely comments, I really do appreciate them. And also, I feel quite bad for this, but I forgot to credit my beta reader, TheKyttin13 (on ), for the past two chapters! Forgive me! Thanks goes out to him for reading over these chapters and fixing my poor grammar.

Again, constructive criticism is always appreciated. While this fic is intended to have a lot of angst (from easily avoided misunderstandings, but that would be no fun), I don't want it to be a depressing stew of that, so this chapter was a bit of a break. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Kai was stationed as herald outside the ballroom and waiting rather impatiently. He glanced at his pocket watch, wondering what could be taking the queen and the princess so long. It'd been almost a quarter hour since King Frederick and Queen Alice had arrived. Queen Alice had given him a most unusual smile as she went in, stopping briefly to say that the royal couple would be arriving soon.

He huffed. All the guests had arrived and he was growing anxious about so many members of nobility gathered in one place with easy access to spirits; those situations never boded well, especially for the servants. And this was such a special occasion, good lord, if the queen did not come soon, he would ready a search party and—

Kai's eyes widened and he unconsciously straightened. He'd just spotted Queen Elsa walking down the hall with her new wife, and just in the nick of time, too. _Finally_, the butler thought. They were walking leisurely, their attention on each other. The queen looked impeccable in her suit and Princess Anna was lovely in her ballgown.

As he waited, Kai noted the relaxed set of the queen's shoulders and the easy way she walked with her new wife at her side. _A most definite improvement from earlier today, _he thought with approval, remembering how strained Queen Elsa had been. Well, it'd been hard few years for her, but Kai imagined the marriage might be just the thing for the queen. The happiest times he recalled seeing the queen was when Princess Anna was visiting.

"I like your hair down like that," he heard the princess say to Queen Elsa as they approached.

"Good evening, your majesties." Kai bowed. They both nodded a greeting and stood just outside the doors.

"Ready?" Elsa asked. The princess smiled and nodded.

Kai opened the doors.

"My Lords and Ladies, I announce the arrival of Her Royal Majesty Elsa, Queen of Arendelle accompanied by Her Royal Highness Anna, Princess-Consort of Arendelle and Princess of Corona!"

_So, that's what I am_, Anna thought with faint amusement. _A princess consort._

The ballroom was immense and easily contained several hundred people, maybe even a thousand. Round dining tables and chairs were set up in a ring in the ballroom, leaving space for dancing later. Most of the guests were seated, glasses in hand, while footmen weaved through with gleaming platters laden with more drinks and finger foods. Everything was awash in a soft candlelit glow from grand hanging chandeliers, making the marble and dark wood interior gleam warmly. An orchestra was settled in a corner and a larger long table at the head of the ballroom by the imperial staircase, just below the doors. Anna could see her parents seated at that table, the head reserved for her and Elsa.

Everybody stood up in unison.

"How many people did you invite?" Anna whispered to Elsa, eyes wide.

"I'm not sure," Elsa admitted. "There were so many foreign relations tangentially related to us and every other noble family that I left it to Kai, who probably handed it off to someone else to arrange with your family."

"I don't think I've ever seen this many people in one place." Anna pressed herself closer to Elsa nervously. "Elsa, you'd better catch me if I trip again. It's not my fault if I get clumsy because you decided to host both kingdoms for our party."

That made Elsa smile. "You'll be fine."

But Elsa did make sure to navigate Anna around the curved stairway lest she trip on the hem of her dress. As they descended, Anna's knees began to shake. She could feel every single eyeball in the place fixed on her, the room going quiet to watch them. Anna clutched Elsa's arm like a lifeline.

Elsa glanced down in alarm.

"What's wrong?" Elsa whispered. She slowed their pace just enough so they were still moving, but would not be hurrying anywhere soon.

"Um." Her mouth refused to move. She'd never had so many people focused on her. Most people didn't watch Anna much even back at home in Corona. It was usually Kristoff who'd been the center of attention, or her parents. Even the wedding hadn't been that bad, especially when she wasn't looking straight at people.

Elsa examined Anna's pale, drawn face and understood. She placed her other hand over the one Anna had curled on her arm and angled her head down to speak quietly into her ear as though she were murmuring intimacies.

"Do you remember that time we went ice skating in the pond just outside the castle one summer? You were seven and I was..." She deliberately trailed off, waiting for Anna to respond.

"Ten," Anna whispered back. Her mouth was dry, heart pounding. "Y-you froze the-the pond. That's right. It was, um...August and, uh..."

"Too hot," Elsa finished. Her lips curved, pleased that Anna remembered. "I used to get dizzy spells. Do you recall that?"

Anna was nodding and not staring blindly out at the crowd anymore with panicked eyes, her focus turning to Elsa.

"And you didn't like the heat and you'd sometimes stay in the castle where it was cool. But I was bored—"

"You often were," Elsa said dryly. A small smile flickered over Anna's lips.

"I was seven years old, what did you expect?"

"Not for you to play with the suits of armor! Kai nearly had a fit when you knocked over the one that was supposed to be five hundred years old and belonged to some ancestor or other."

Anna laughed, remembering the incident. "And Kristoff ran off with the dented helm to show some friends—"

"And we were banished outside to the pond for the rest of the day."

She would have said more when she noticed there were no more steps beneath her feet. Her eyes widened in surprise—they were at the bottom of the stairs and she couldn't see the tops of the crowd's heads anymore. She looked at Elsa in amazement, but Elsa was already leading them to the table, her expression composed and looking straight ahead. Her hand was still over Anna's, though, their fingers touching. Anna relaxed her grip on Elsa's forearm and twined their fingers together, squeezing Elsa's briefly in thanks. She thought she could see the ghost of a smile before the footmen pulled their chairs back. They parted to stand before their seats.

"Don't sit yet," Elsa murmured, lips barely moving. Anna paused in time, her knees just starting to bend.

"Thank you for joining us," Elsa said, her voice carrying throughout the ballroom. It was a voice that Anna hadn't heard her use before—it wasn't yelling, but still strong and clear. "Arendelle welcomes all in attendance to celebrate the joining of Houses Arendelle and Corona."

Then the queen sat down before anybody could react, leaving startled guests trying to decide whether to clap or sit. There was a smattering mix of applause as well as scraping chairs. Anna suppressed a grin, enjoying their confusion.

"That was quick," Anna said after sinking into her chair. "I thought you were going to give a long speech."

"Hardly," Elsa said. "I'm hungry. I missed lunch." Elsa blinked at the look Anna aimed at her. "What?"

"Well, you missed a wonderful lunch with me and my parents," Anna said, glancing to her right. Her parents were seated next to her and speaking to a dinner partner. The footmen began serving.

"Oh?" Elsa's brow lifted. "I'm sorry I missed it."

Anna waved her off. "Nothing happened. Just… the usual. My parents being my parents." She leaned closer to Elsa, abruptly aware how long it'd been since they had last conducted a real conversation. "Where were you, though?"

It occurred to Elsa that Anna might be thinking she'd been avoiding her during that luncheon. Which… was true. It had not taken that long to dress and her bravery had been notably absent at the time.

"Just finishing up some last minute work that had cropped up," she said. It was a half-truth. She had been in her study going over work, but she had also been incapable of completing any of it. Nerves and stress had been taking a toll on her, though she was feeling more relaxed now.

"Oh, what kind of work?"

Elsa blinked. Anna had never shown an interest in her work, or really, any kind of work involved in the kingdom's daily running. And it was a bit disconcerting to have been caught in her white lie, thinking that if she brought up something she thought Anna had no interest in, she would not have to divulge anything, even if it was (mostly) the truth. So, as Elsa was considering the quandary before her, the spark of interest in Anna's eyes and her smile began to fade, to be replaced with a trace of hurt and resignation.

"You don't have to tell me," Anna said, pulling back. Elsa felt the withdrawal as acutely as a broken promise. "I probably wouldn't get it anyway."

_What?_ That hadn't been what she'd been thinking. Or had it? She _had _thought Anna didn't have any interest in government and business affairs. And to be fair, when she thought of Anna, she didn't think of a great mind for politics or academics. She saw the carefree girl who'd included her in childhood games, who wrote her letters that brought relief to loneliness, who was lovely beyond words, and so vivacious. A girl who didn't belong in a stuffy library or office, but in fashionable dresses in a glittering ballroom much like this one, or outside astride a spirited horse. It wasn't that she thought Anna was incapable of mundane work, but Elsa simply didn't associate her with it. At all. Anna was above that.

_And is that all I think of her? No_, Elsa thought. _Anna has other qualities, it's just…_

She had no idea. It felt not dissimilar to being cracked over the head from behind with a rock, she was so stunned. Her brain was of no use at all.

By the time Elsa regained control of her vocal functions, Anna had turned away to look down at her plate.

"Anna," Elsa started, alarmed at the rapid turn of the conversation. "I—no, I mean, it's not that I don't think you wouldn't understand it—"

"I said it's okay, Elsa," Anna said, her gaze fixed down on the table. There was something in her voice that made Elsa's throat close up in guilt. "It really is."

She knew it wasn't, and any platitude or explanation attempt would not remedy her blunder. How had she managed to strike a nerve so fast? They'd barely just started speaking! But she had no choice but to comply. She nodded stiffly and turned to her own plate, her appetite gone.

Her stomach felt queasy and tight from helplessness.

She'd botched it _again._

She was beginning to think she shouldn't have married at all.

* * *

The champagne was excellent. The food was excellent. Everything was excellent. But Elsa was being careful around her again, her manners painfully proper and exact. Even her posture was stiff, her back so straight Anna half-expected to see a broom handle jammed up against it.

She glanced at Elsa's gloved hands clenched in her lap; the cloth was stretched taut over the knuckles. The state of Elsa's hands was usually a good indicator of her mood.

Taking a deep breath, she reached down and touched Elsa's arm. Elsa jumped and shot her a tense, surprised look.

"It's a party." Anna tried to smile reassuringly. "You should be enjoying it."

She was awarded with a bitter laugh. "Anna, I'm not sure I should."

Her eyebrows drew up. She wondered if Elsa's change in mood was from some misguided notion that she hadn't upheld her duties or something similar. Kristoff used to get like that: one moment happy and then the next nearly drowning in melancholy. Or brooding. Both Kristoff and Elsa brooded a lot.

"Of course you do. It's a party. Everybody likes parties." Anna rubbed at Elsa's hand, wishing she'd let up on the death grip. Any harder and Elsa might crush her other hand. "What's got you all twisted up?"

Elsa gave her a disbelieving look.

"I really don't know, Elsa," she said patiently. Just like she'd say to Kristoff.

"Earlier..." Elsa frowned deeply. "About... work."

"Okay..." She tilted her head and chewed on her lip, perplexed. Not royal duties? "I'm not really getting where you're going with this. I'm sorry."

"No, you shouldn't be apologizing." Elsa looked down at their hands. "I said—or I suppose I _didn't_ say what I'd been doing during lunch."

_Oh. That._ Anna had put it to the back of her mind. She was used to that sort of thing—being told that there was important work that had to be done and getting a nonplussed look if she happened to inquire about it. Like she'd just asked someone to go to the moon and fetch her a bit of cheese to go with her tea or something. Why would the spare, a female, be asking about important work? She needn't worry about such things. Nor be included in them. Run along now, perhaps work on your embroidering? Practice scales on the pianoforte? Surely any suitor would be impressed…

"—getting any work done," she heard Elsa say.

She blinked. "Wait, what?"

Elsa was startled. "Did you—did you not hear what I said? I said I wasn't actually getting much done. It was just some business proposals looking for investors."

"Oh." Was Elsa telling her out of pity? That would be even worse. Anna tried to think of something to say, something to get Elsa to stop because she didn't want a conversation about something that Elsa felt obligated to tell her. "Uh, well-"

"You may already know this, but Arendelle's wealth comes from our gold mines," Elsa rushed, clearly feeling the creeping awkwardness and attempting to hold it at bay. "Arendelle's land isn't particularly tillable and mountains aren't a great commodity, but the gold mines mean we can expand through investments into foreign industries, such that—"

"Elsa, stop." Anna couldn't quite hold back her smile. "You don't have to pitch your royal speech to me. Practically everybody knows why Arendelle is rich."

Elsa flushed and cleared her throat. "Well."

She squeezed Elsa's hand. "You don't have to tell me about it. I doubt I'd understand at all what you do." And she really doubted she would. Having spent most of her life expected to be married off had meant more time spent with tutors in music and dance than history and mathematics.

Elsa's brow flicked down as she studied her. Anna didn't know what her thoughts were. But Elsa's hands finally relaxed.

"All right." Anna had the feeling it wasn't—Elsa didn't look entirely convinced, but it was enough for now.

* * *

"A toast to my daughter and daughter-in-law!" King Frederick bellowed sometime after the main course had been served, flute glass high in the air.

"To Elsa and Anna!"

Glasses rose and several "here, here's!" carried down the ballroom. Anna raised up her glass with muted enthusiasm and sipped. She had never been able to hold her alcohol and the thought of dancing while tipsy, however entertaining, would end in embarrassment. And more stories for her mother, which was the last thing Anna wanted.

Anna was in good spirits, though. Somewhere between the second and third course, a footman had placed a small bowl of chocolates next to her plate. Her eyes had searched out other place settings and, not finding a trace of similar sweets, Anna knew that the source behind the treat was sitting right next to her, expression innocent as an angel's.

She'd very nearly leaned over and kissed that look of studied oblivion off Elsa's face. Anna had settled for brushing the back of her hand against the one Elsa had resting between their chairs. The tablecloth hid the view, but Elsa still colored faintly at the touch. Goodness, but she did blush easily.

"Thank you," Anna had whispered.

Elsa, not looking at her, had allowed a tiny nod.

The chocolates were delicious—she'd discreetly shared them with Elsa despite her protests ("You need to put on some weight."). Elsa had even remembered what kind she liked. Anna found it ridiculously pleasing, and she kept continually glancing at Elsa throughout the dinner as though the queen was a withheld present, a gift that she wasn't allowed to have until midnight, but where her eyes wander to in anticipation.

And Anna fairly thrummed with that anticipation. She didn't know precisely for what—perhaps the dancing? She and Elsa would have the first dance, of course. Where more people would be watching them. For some reason, the prospect didn't make her knees knock like when they first entered, perhaps because she wouldn't have to _look_ at everyone. If she focused on Elsa like before she'd probably be all right. Anna cursed her lack of grace and wondered who she could have gotten it from; neither of her parents were so clumsy.

She snuck another glance at Elsa. The queen had her hand curled around her glass, elbow upon her chair armrest, face placid. The picture of polite interest, not quite detached, but neither was Elsa entirely there as guests talked animatedly amongst themselves.

Elsa was actually thinking about dancing as well. More to the point, she was going over all the steps of the first dance she would be performing with Anna. For it was certainly a performance; there wasn't really any question of enjoyment for Elsa, but she wanted to make sure she did it perfectly for Anna. Fairy tales never mentioned graceless princes and knights, after all. They didn't mention adorably clumsy princesses either, but the dance was for Anna, not her. Unconsciously, her fingers began tapping the beat of the waltz on her glass in time with how each step would go in her mind.

_One, two, three_… _One, two, three… _

"_The gentleman leads and the lady enhances his movements, his steps," the etiquette master said, voice echoing in the empty ballroom. _

"_The dance is for my fiance," Elsa said. She crossed her arms, her shirt and trousers still crisp and not yet damp from the trials of practice. "It is for her… pleasure."_

"_Understood, your majesty, but the dance is not only for one or the other. It is a partnership. Both parties must move together, enjoy the dance together. You are attempting to do all the work yourself."_

_Elsa sighed. "I don't know how well my partner will dance. I've never seen her dance formally."_

"_Have more faith, your majesty. I am sure Princess Anna will be more skilled than you think."_

"_All the same—"_

"_I beg your pardon, your majesty, but it is not 'all the same.' Dancing does require a level of trust from both the gentleman and the lady. You must trust in each other to have a good dance. You are overthinking and letting your focus spread too thin. Try to enjoy the dance and let it come out of you naturally."_

_Elsa gave him an exasperated look. "I just want to dance well and prepare for missteps."_

_He sighed now. They'd had this conversation more often than he cared to count. "Your majesty, you are talented. You dance excellently in the female role, but when you shift to the gentleman role, your steps become too calculated and controlled. You lose your grace and become a puppet. You turn wooden. The princess will see it."_

"_I don't see how. I've done all the steps correctly. I'm just not all that comfortable with it."_

"_Yes, and that is part of it. Your steps are correct, but you are stiff, rigid. Your movements will reflect on your partner and she will also become so. Dancing is fluid. Relax." _

_She fidgeted, gaze falling on the faint chalk marks on the floor. She knew the dances, she'd certainly practiced them enough. But she could feel that she was becoming stiff in her steps, her legs and abdomen tensing. Luckily, she had enough control to not clutch the hands of her partner, but sometimes it was a close thing. _

_The etiquette master motioned for them to try again. A young noblewoman, one of his students, approached the queen as the pianoforte began to play. Elsa bowed, her partner curtsied. The noblewoman—a girl, really, and enthralled at the chance to dance with the queen—looked up at Elsa with dazzled eyes. Elsa didn't notice it, her brows furrowing in concentration._

_She tried to imagine dancing with Anna. Blue eyes, freckled cheeks, her ever-present smile, rich auburn hair. Elsa loved Anna's hair, all the colors that were reflected off it, especially when it was sun-warmed. She could still remember the gentle curve of her neck from when she was in Corona. And, of course, when she thought about Anna's throat, she imagined kissing it, wondered how soft her skin would be. And then those thoughts would lead into fantasies of burying her face in Anna's hair while her hands explored her body. _

_Anna would be warm. So warm. Perhaps she would even enjoy what Elsa did, though Elsa tried not to hope for it. It was better to busy herself with things she could actually work on, like dancing. And wedding planning. And buying too many gifts. They were only tangible things to hold Anna to Arendelle for as long as she could. _

_Her arms jerked. Elsa looked down and saw a girl's face wincing back at her. She'd been gripping her dancing partner's hands too hard and immediately released her. She stepped back. _

"_My apologies." Her words felt stilted, even to her. _

_The etiquette master had seen it—the queen had drifted off again. It wasn't unusual at all for many lords and ladies to tune out the world and allow muscle memory move their feet for them, but the queen seemed to go off to unhappy places. She'd never displayed such a tendency when she danced as a lady, but impending marriage made people do strange things. Though for all intents and purposes, the queen didn't seem to object her betrothal. Everybody in the castle knew how much time she was pouring into the preparations, to the point that she was neglecting some of her other duties. No one said anything about it, of course. _

"_Your majesty," he started. She looked at him expressionlessly. "Remember to stay in the moment. Do not try to think ahead."_

_She nodded, but he doubted she'd heard him. "My apologies," she said again. "But let's continue this another time." She was already striding away before anybody could react, throwing the doors open in her wake._

And the moment had finally arrived for the first dance. Their first dance.

Elsa rose and found herself feeling steady. With a bow, she extended her hand.

"May I have this dance?"

* * *

Anna could practically hear the sighs from every female in the room. She couldn't really blame them—who didn't want to be asked for a dance so gallantly? And for such a significant dance, too.

She smiled brilliantly and slid her hand into Elsa's. The queen was graceful, but her hand shook ever so slightly as Anna rose. Elsa led them to the dance floor. A gloved hand rested lightly on the small of her back, the other holding Anna's hand aloft. Anna settled a hand where Elsa's shoulder and arm met, still smiling.

They held still, waiting for the orchestra to begin. There was a certain palpable excitement in the air. Anna couldn't tell if it was from her and Elsa or their audience. Their eyes met and, just before the music started, Elsa released a breath. Her body relaxed under Anna's hands and she smiled back. Elsa was luminous.

The queen had always been graceful. Anna remembered even as a child, Elsa moved with a certain purpose and poise that belied her relative youth. She'd have called it fine breeding that made Elsa the way she was—generations upon generations of equally beautiful and graceful people mating to arrive at the current queen of Arendelle. But there was something about Elsa that separated her from other lords and ladies who boasted similar lineages. Elsa was simply special, something ethereal and elusive, and that kind of person didn't just happen upon you.

You had to seize them, hold on to them, to make them yours.

So, Anna seized the moment. It didn't matter that she hadn't seen Elsa in years, had never even thought of kissing Elsa prior to today, had never considered how everything could change when she thought she was simply doing her own duty by becoming Elsa's bride. This wasn't duty. It felt closer to… need. Like something vital and necessary.

At that moment, she knew she wanted Elsa like she'd never wanted anything before.

Her world closed in, focusing, sharpening, on only what was before her. She was aware of nothing but Elsa. Elsa's hands on her, warm and simply _there_, holding her. Elsa's closeness, not touching her, but the same—simply _there_, like a comforting presence. Only Anna didn't quite feel comfortable. She wasn't discomfitted, exactly, but it was like her senses were heightened and attuned to only her partner and it was shocking her nerves alive, prickling her skin, and warming her as thoroughly as sitting too close to a fire after a winter's day. Her heart throbbed as they moved together.

She could breathe in Elsa's scent of soap and fresh snow and the faintest trace of lavender. Elsa's scent reminded her of the cold, but in the way that it was clean and raw and pure. Beneath her hands, Elsa felt solid, but still light—she was nimble on her feet in boots just as well as skates. Everything seemed to fall into place, like a puzzle where a piece that was lost was found in the most obvious place and she was surprised that she'd never noticed it.

Then the dance ended with applause, but Anna was hardly conscious of it. Her eyes were fixed to Elsa, her hands refusing to release her. Something had changed, shifted, and become something entirely new during that dance. Anna had no idea if it was her or Elsa, or maybe it was just a culmination from a long day and all the new things she'd experienced making her daft and stupid, but she _knew, _just as well she knew the sun would rise in the east and rain fell from the skies, that she wasn't ever letting Elsa go. She didn't think she could, even if she wanted to.

God. If Kristoff heard her now, he would have laughed it off as romantic twaddle, and maybe it was.

But at that moment, it felt like truth.

* * *

When they parted, Elsa hardly paid attention to the crowd of people rising to their feet. Her hands were still linked with Anna's. Anna had the strangest expression on her face that Elsa didn't know what to make of.

She decided the dance had gone well. _She'd done it_. No stiffness, rigidity, or overcontrol that the etiquette master kept pointing out to her. Anna had danced beautifully, just as he'd said. And she had _enjoyed _it. She had enjoyed it immensely, losing herself in the present with Anna in her arms. Elsa sighed out a happily relieved breath. Her body felt remarkably light.

They finally walked off the floor and that was when Elsa realized she had overlooked a very crucial detail: they had to dance with other people. She'd been so focused on making the entire affair perfect, and then making sure she wouldn't bumble like an idiot and trod on her wife's foot, that she'd forgotten about the guests.

The queen nearly blanched at the sea of female eyes on her. _Oh, god_. And she wouldn't be dancing with men. It was implied by her clothes and the first dance that she was playing the masculine role tonight. And by god, if not every lady present wanted to experience the novelty of dancing with a cross-dressing queen, then she'd eat her own cravat. She felt like a cornered hare among a pack of wolves.

Elsa nearly spun on her heel and hightailed out of the ballroom. Only Anna's grip on her arm prevented her retreat.

"Everybody's staring at you," her wife commented with entirely too much amusement. "You danced so well."

"I forgot," Elsa managed.

"Forgot how to dance?"

"Forgot that I'd have to dance with... other people."

Anna had the gall to quirk an eyebrow at her. "Elsa, it's a party. You keep forgetting what happens at parties."

"Not if I leave."

For a moment, Anna looked alarmingly wistful. Like she was considering the very same thing.

"We could—"

"No," Elsa said despairingly. "It'll look bad. We can't. It's our party."

"But you're the queen—"

"That makes it even less appropriate!"

"If you say so," Anna said, her thoughts on the matter obvious. "I'll have to dance, too."

Elsa wanted to freeze solid any man who danced with Anna. "You danced well, too," she said instead.

Anna was giving her that same strange, inscrutable look again. "Mmm."

Elsa wondered what it meant. Not wanting to ruin the moment in case she said the wrong thing again, she spotted King Frederick and Queen Alice approaching from the edge of the dance floor.

"Oh, well done, darling!" Queen Alice exclaimed to Anna. "You two danced splendidly! It certainly brings back memories."

King Frederick smiled indulgently. "Perhaps you'll honor your father with a dance?"

Elsa turned Anna gratefully over to King Frederick and watched them leave. Queen Alice declined her own offer for the next dance, though. "Look at all those ravenous ladies. I think they might tear me apart if I claimed your arm."

A chill went down her spine. "Aunt, I would really—"

"Oh, dear, look, the first sally comes now!" Vastly entertained, Queen Alice tapped her fan lightly against Elsa's arm. "My word, Elsa, it looks like propriety's gone straight out the window tonight. I don't think these ladies are going to wait for you to ask them for a dance."

Elsa paled and reluctantly turned. The "first sally" was a striking brunette in a stunning red dress. Her chestnut hair was piled atop her head, tendrils draping over her bare shoulders. The dress hugged her lush curves and was so stunningly low-cut that it bordered on indecent. Elsa searched through her memory, now unwillingly loaded with fashion knowledge, and recognized it as a French style. Possibly with alterations with that cut. Good grief.

And the lady did walk with a certain intent, like she was on a mission. With a sinking heart, Elsa realized _she_ was probably the target.

Kai appeared at their side to make introductions. The lady stopped short to curtsy and Elsa found herself subjected to an eyeful of bare bosom. She could feel her mother-in-law attempting to hold in her mirth next to her and Elsa wished she was anywhere but there. Maybe she should have taken up Anna's advice, manners be damned.

"Introducing the Comtesse of Artois, Lady Charlotte," Kai announced. A French countess, then. That would explain the dress choice.

"Good evening, your majesties," Lady Charlotte greeted.

Queen Alice gave a nod of acknowledgement. Elsa, though she didn't need to given her status as monarch, bowed. "Good evening."

"Congratulations on your marriage, your majesty," Lady Charlotte said. Her voice was husky, the kind that slid down one's spine like trailing fingertips. "The ceremony and dinner has been exceptional, as expected of Arendelle."

"Thank you, my lady."

Thick lashes lowered and demure green eyes gazed up from just below them. "Forgive my forwardness, your majesty, but I was wondering if I may claim the next dance with you."

Good god, she was direct. Elsa fixed a polite smile on her face and turned to Queen Alice. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I've claimed that dance with my mother-in-law—"

"Oh, heavens no!" Queen Alice laughed. "I thought you heard me, dear, but I'm sitting this one out."

Elsa was thunderstruck. Queen Alice had just _abandoned_ her. Granted, she had turned down her original offer, but couldn't she see that this was an emergency? Elsa would carry her to the dance floor if she had to. But it wasn't a matter of health either; the other queen was spry as a colt.

Gimlet eyes lit in victory. "Then I must claim this one with you, Queen Elsa."

Elsa wanted to protest, to dig in her heels, and maybe glare at her mother-in-law while she was at it since the older woman had just thrown her to a bonafide shark. Excuses formed, but none of them, absolutely none of them, were of any use. With an inward sigh, Elsa offered her hand.

"It would be my pleasure, Lady Charlotte."

* * *

A/N: I've been really pleased and surprised with the responses and reactions I've been getting for this story! So, thanks everybody for leaving the kind comments about it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

As for this chapter, I had a great deal of difficulty with it and I'm not sure I'm very pleased with how it turned out, so I'd love to hear back from any readers who also found issues with it. It may be likely that I will return to this one and tweak it a bit more, but I'll put up a message if I decided to do this. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Elsa led the countess to the dance floor. Lady Charlotte laid her hands lightly on Elsa, her red painted lips smirking slightly.

"You don't look entirely pleased, your majesty," Lady Charlotte remarked as the music started.

"I beg your pardon," Elsa said politely. She attempted to arrange her features into more neutral lines. She thought she already looked appropriately social. "It's been a long day."

"You did look more energized with your bride," the countess continued. "She's lovely. The princess consort, that is."

Elsa's gaze sharpened on the other woman's face. Elsa supposed she could be described as comely—chestnut hair, golden skin, large green eyes, a pert nose and full lips. She certainly wasn't unattractive, but Elsa had never really looked at other ladies, or men, for that matter. The interest had never been there and Lady Charlotte certainly wasn't going to initiate it for her—Anna had rather settled that for Elsa. It occurred to her that Anna had probably unknowingly ruined her for anyone else. It was just as well; she'd long known that Anna was the constant that would always guide her.

"Thank you," she said evenly. The countess wanted something. It was in the way she was watching her—far more intently than a dance partner would.

"You're quite the talk of the evening as well," Lady Charlotte said. "The whole men's dress. I don't think I've seen so many women sighing over the clothes on another woman. They're usually… ripping apart the attire of whoever outshines them."

Elsa didn't answer immediately, weighing her response. This was precisely why she avoided social functions; comments like what just came out of the countess's mouth, constructed to probably get a rise out of her.

She decided on raw honesty: "Lady Charlotte, I don't particularly care what other women think."

"No, of course not," the countess said amiably. "You only care what your _wife_ thinks."

Startled, Elsa stared at her. The other woman's height was merciful enough that Elsa didn't have to stare down her cleavage—Lady Charlotte was only slightly taller than Anna, but Elsa still topped her.

"Don't worry, your majesty, I have no interest in you." The countess smiled faintly. "I just wanted your attention."

So she _was _on a mission. And apparently dressed for the part, too. It was mildly insulting that someone thought such a show would get her attention, but she supposed since she was marrying another woman that it made some sense. It still did not lessen the affront in any way—she disliked being tricked or lured.

"Well, you have a captive audience," Elsa responded acidly. "The dance will be over shortly. You'd best make your case quickly or I shall leave you here on the floor."

The countess laughed throatily, drawing a few looks from other dancers. "You would not, Queen Elsa. You are too well-bred to be rude for the sake of making a point."

Elsa was rapidly reconsidering that last part.

The countess seemed to see it and smirked again. "I'm here on business, actually. As a sort of intermediary. You may be familiar with the Collier Company."

The name actually was familiar. Where had she heard that name? No, she hadn't heard it. She'd read it.

"British, railroad industry," Elsa recited. "Arendelle holds a controlling share." It was a company her father had invested in. She was still familiarizing herself with all the companies Arendelle was involved with.

The countess beamed. "Excellent. That saves me quite a bit of time. I thought I might need to remind you."

"Most representatives of companies are men," Elsa commented absently, still searching for any recollections of the company she had filed away.

"You've turned away enough to know, I'm sure," was her smooth rejoinder.

That caught her attention and made her tighten her jaw. It was true enough. Her father had handled the business investments up until his death and Elsa had not even looked at the accounting books until nearly a year of mourning. She'd largely ignored most of the letters that were sent to Arendelle asking for business decisions, passing them off to an appointed council of financial advisors. She'd planned on returning to that part of her duties, but then the betrothal had eaten up all her time and commitment such that she'd continued to put it off. She had neglected her duties in that regard except for the most pressing issues.

_"Ah, it does sting, I'm sure. Shall we speak like this to keep this discussion discreet?" _The countess said in French.

Startled, Elsa answered back, _"You wouldn't be the only one who can speak French here."_

_"You'd be surprised. We can switch to another language if you prefer. I understand that you can speak several languages of the continent."_

The queen regarded the countess with an unreadable expression for several moments.

_"If you have business dealings, then you can send notice to my office to schedule a meeting for another day," _she said tightly. _I will not be accosted at my own wedding party_, was implied.

_"What better time than the present? As you said, I have you as a captive audience for a few more minutes and I'd rather we use that time efficiently as opposed to spouting pleasantries."_

She was blunt. Elsa couldn't help but like it. It was such a change from the way most people spoke to her; a mix of awed adulation and pedantic observation of social conventions. She was an unknown and new to the throne as well as to Arendelle's business relations. People were forever afraid of offending her, especially now that she controlled Arendelle's purse strings.

Still, the dance floor was not the place where she wanted to conduct business, informally or otherwise.

The wardrobe choice was also regrettable. It was actually having the opposite (and presumably intended) effect—her eyes were resolutely trained on Lady Charlotte's face than looking anywhere below her chin. It was also consistently reminding her that the countess thought she was easily distracted by a bit of skin and was patently unprofessional.

The countess took her silence as permission to continue. _"My employer—"_

_"Who is your employer?"_

"_A competitor. I'd prefer to not give names just yet—"_

"_So a mysterious competitor has sent a pretty face to my wedding party to speak of business relations. Hardly an appropriate venue. How charming."_ Her voice dripped with barely concealed sarcasm.

The countess smiled disarmingly. _"I am flattered that you think I have a pretty face."_

_"I shall leave you on the dance floor," _Elsa warned again, the flirtatious tone irritating her. She knew when she was being toyed with and her pride could only tolerate so many slights.

_"Cold," _the countess laughed. More stares from other dancers. _"But I see the dance winding down. Perhaps we can continue to speak after refreshments?"_ The countess batted her lashes expectantly, enjoying the way Elsa glared at her. _"I can be charming as you said."_

_"Set up a meeting and we can talk further." _Her timing was impeccable: the dance ended and she walked off without the countess, leaving dancers to gape at the abject rudeness.

* * *

"How does it feel to be a married woman now?"

Anna smiled distantly up at her father, thoughts full of Elsa, and not registering the question at all.

Beautiful, graceful Elsa, who danced well and smelled so nice that Anna wanted to bury her nose in Elsa's slender throat, and who knew how to relax her clumsy tendencies and what kinds of chocolates she liked.

There was a ball of excitement that had settled in her belly since their dance and she couldn't help but think of Elsa constantly. They'd been apart for a scant few minutes and she was already eager to return to her, to look at that lovely face, run her fingers through Elsa's hair—good god, she hadn't even touched Elsa's hair! And Elsa had had her hands in Anna's hair and that seemed distinctly unfair, a gross oversight that would need to be remedied, and soon.

And then there was Elsa's mouth that Anna fervently wanted to kiss. Elsa was a very good kisser, Anna had concluded. Her only point of reference was Hans and he seemed like a very, very distant second, to the point of belonging on another planet. Yes, she wanted to kiss Elsa more.

"I'm going to take that as a positive answer," King Frederick said after a very long and pointed silence. His daughter was daydreaming; he recognized that expression. And given the pretty flush that had risen up her cheeks and the distracted eyes which, he was sure, was not from his comment, she was thinking of things that no father wanted to be privy to. Though he supposed he ought to be happy that Anna and Elsa were... getting along. It was good that she and Elsa were having such feelings, which he was not going to contemplate at all. He wanted nothing more than for both of them to be happy. They deserved it.

With his impressive height, King Frederick had a very good view of the dance floor. He idly glanced about to see where his daughter-in-law was and his eyes and jaw popped wide open in consternation when he saw who she was dancing with. The Comtesse of Artois. In the flesh. And most of it on display, for heaven's sake! He could see the male heads turning to watch the queen and countess as they danced, their eyes lingering appreciatively on the countess's... bounty.

The countess was notorious. A man-eater, a snake, and whatever other animal that ate people and had no redeeming qualities. How on earth had she gotten an invitation? He immediately dismissed that question—of course she had connections, though nobody wanted to publicly acknowledge their association. She was toxic, that was what. Practically suicidal to be seen with her outside of social functions like these. And Elsa was dancing with her! Did she not know who the countess was? Actually, probably not; she hadn't been very social before. Good god, he could only imagine the damage if Anna saw her—

He seized his daughter and immediately whirled them about so her back was to Elsa and the countess. Nearby dancing couples had to scramble out of his way and dared not comment—he was a king, after all. Anna, however, made a startled noise.

"Papa! What are you doing?" She sounded peeved. She had been lost in reverie about Elsa before her father hied her half across the dance floor. Maybe he ought to spend some time with Master Flynn.

"The view's better from here," he said blandly.

Anna gave him a narrow-eyed look, but decided not to comment.

King Frederick tried to signal to his wife, but she simply twiddled her fingers fondly back at him while chatting with a group of ladies.

_Damn it, Alice, now isn't the time to be obtuse!_

He could see people all around them starting to talk about who Elsa was dancing with. Strains of "Artois," "speaking in French," "the queen," as well as "that shameless dress" were floating into his ears and making him rigid with panic. He glanced down at his daughter—Anna hadn't noticed the flying gossip yet, her blue eyes in a state of blissful ignorance that he could only too clearly see being dashed by horror and heartbreak.

King Frederick wanted to clutch his little girl to his breast and carry her the rest of the way out of the ballroom, probably cursing Elsa's own ignorance for accepting a dance with the countess all the while. How did Elsa not _know _about her? The countess's reputation certainly preceded her, the vile woman.

While her father was fretting himself into a cold sweat, Anna was craning her head over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Elsa. She thought she could see Elsa's telltale platinum hair flash as she turned, then brilliant red, but her father was spinning her about rather quickly (she was tempted to stomp on his boot to get him to stop). As soon as the dance was over, Anna picked up her skirts to search out Elsa before King Frederick could even realize what she'd done.

—-

_Where was Elsa?_ Anna wove through the crush of people until she saw a flash of white blonde and the back of a retreating cobalt tailcoat.

"Elsa!"

Elsa didn't hear her and continued walking. Goodness, she did walk fast, her long legs eating up distance. Anna trotted after her and grabbed her arm, gasping for breath.

_"Je vous ai déjà dit de demander un rendez-vous demain, comtesse," _Elsa said coldly, not turning.

Anna released her arm immediately. It was another voice she'd never heard Elsa use. And in French. Her own French was only passable, but she knew enough to know what Elsa had just told her to send a note tomorrow. And addressed her as countess.

_"Je suis désolée,"_ Anna said, her voice small. She wasn't really sure why she'd just apologized when it was clear that Elsa had not meant her. The rebuke still stung, though.

Elsa whirled, her eyes wide. "Anna! I—God, I'm sorry, I thought you were—never mind." Flustered, she straightened, hands limp at her sides. At least she'd switched back to English.

"You left in such a hurry, your majesty." A lady sidled up behind Anna. Anna turned her head, her mouth open, then closed it when words failed her.

It was like a blow to the gut. There was really no word for it, but the closest approximate description was that the lady was magnificent. She had an earthly kind of beauty that whispered of temptation. She contrasted starkly to Elsa's icy countenance, dark to her light, her face a collection of dramatic sweeps and curves with a knowing light in her green eyes. She moved with a sort of sensual languidness, like a lazy cat, her hips swaying and striding confidently.

It was enough to make any woman feel dowdy and Anna was no exception. The lady's red lips lifted at the corners as her eyes raked over Elsa with apparent interest.

The lady glanced at Anna and performed a graceful curtsy that was polite but still seemed somewhat mocking. Anna had to avert her eyes just slightly because—well, that dress; low-cut didn't even _begin _to describe it. Anna would not have been able to wear that same dress with the same kind of self-assuredness as the lady did.

"Anna, this is the Comtesse of Artois, Lady Charlotte." The introduction sounded like it was being dragged out of Elsa, the words a reluctant tumble.

Anna's jaw went slightly slack. _A French countess_. _Who... was eating Elsa alive with her eyes even right then. _She glanced quickly at Elsa for her reaction, but Elsa was like a glacier—unfathomable and immovable.

"Good evening," Anna said for lack of anything else to say. She felt like a pigeon next to this exotic animal. She'd seen other ladies like Lady Charlotte, women with voluptuous and lush figures and could wear such revealing dresses with aplomb, but she couldn't think of a single one who seemed to embody pure sin as she did. And Lady Charlotte oozed with it, her presence simply drawing attention to her the same way Elsa's demanded deference, though hers was with a distinctly carnal air.

"You as well, your highness," Lady Charlotte said. She regarded Anna for a moment and it made her feel almost _naked _beneath those eyes. Like the countess knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling and every secret Anna had was no longer hers. Anna couldn't look away, feeling like a fly trapped in a web of silk.

Then she finally released Anna from her gaze and returned to devouring Elsa. Anna was frozen, her skin cold, her limbs useless. It felt like she was watching herself rather than actively participating in the... exchange.

"I shall call upon you, _your majesty_," Lady Charlotte purred. "For the... _business _we spoke of." She infused the word with such suggestion that Elsa's brows lifted. The countess produced a calling card, strode to the queen, and trailed the tip of the card down her coat with that same languid sensuality, achingly slowly, as though it was a finger and not paper. The sound it made against the satin was almost thunderous.

Then she slid it into a pocket and eased it into place with a fingertip.

Both Elsa and Anna were rigid with shock. Anna could not believe her eyes. It was so... so... _improper_. She might as well have just propositioned Elsa right there in the middle of the ballroom.

Lady Charlotte then gave both of them a brilliant smile and swept away. The crowd parted like the Red Sea before the staff of Moses before her, eyes trailing after her retreating form.

The explosion of whispered gossip began before the countess had even made it out the ballroom.

* * *

"Who... who was that?"

Elsa blinked at the tentative question, the calling card sitting in her pocket like lead. She wanted to throw it into a fire. Or tear it apart and grind the pieces under her boot heel. There were eyes on them, eyes that had seen what just happened. Her skin crawled.

"I danced with her," Elsa said, slowly. She knew Anna wasn't asking for the countess's name. "She—this is a bad place to talk about this. Come with me." She took Anna's hand and led them to a nearby balcony where there were a few people loitering. She glared at them, her mood suffering too much to bother with manners now. They scattered.

Anna was silent next to her.

Alone and out of sight, Elsa leaned against the stone rail to face Anna, the lights from the city celebration behind her, and crossed her arms. The evening air was cool.

"I danced with her," she repeated. "She approached me first. She wanted something. A business negotiation."

"Business?" Anna stared at Elsa uncomprehendingly. "While... dancing?"

"So she said. She also said she was hired by a company interested in another that my father invested in. A British one. I don't... I don't really know what she wanted. I haven't looked at the state of most of Arendelle's business contracts. I told her to set up an appointment another day instead of interrupting the party."

"Oh. Is that why you were speaking French?"

Elsa scowled. "She started to. Allegedly to preserve my pride and avoid people overhearing. Ridiculous woman."

"Oh."

Elsa studied Anna. Her normally open face was unreadable in the dim lighting, her stance stiff. It was making her intensely uncomfortable, that perhaps Anna was hiding something from her. While Elsa just felt irritated that she'd been trapped with an overly flirtatious woman who had pointed out her failings, and then behaved in a _cavalierly inappropriate manner_ toward her before witnesses, she couldn't decipher Anna's feelings.

"Are you... are you displeased?" Elsa asked softly. "I promise you that I did not invite her... advances." An idea flickered briefly—did Anna feel jealous, perhaps? While that would have... not been entirely unwelcome for Elsa, because that would mean Anna _did_ feel not only just friendship towards her, at the same time—Elsa did not want Anna to suffer that. Elsa was already rather intimately familiar with that particular emotion.

"No, I'm just—no. I guess I'm just surprised that she acted like that. And for a business thing! That's... strange. I didn't know ladies were involved in, you know, business." Anna blinked a few times. "Well, of course, _you're_ involved in that, so I didn't mean, ha, what am I saying—"

Elsa went to Anna. She gently circled her hands about Anna's upper arms and drew her close until Anna's face was tucked into her shoulder. "You're upset," Elsa murmured. "I'm sorry. I didn't handle that well."

Anna shook her head against Elsa's coat. Her arms found their way around Elsa's back, fingers brushing her tied hair. "I didn't—ugh, I don't know how to say it." Her voice was muffled against Elsa's shoulder. "I didn't like... the way she looked at you."

Elsa's heart thrummed pleasantly at the admission. So Anna _was_ jealous. Even if just a little, Elsa did not intend on letting her continue feeling that way.

"She was a bit rude, wasn't she?" Elsa smiled, pressing her cheek to Anna's hair. God, she still smelled of summer—that lovely mix of sun and grass and faint strawberries. It never failed to soothe her. Elsa allowed her eyes to close, her thumbs rubbing small circles against Anna's skin. "I'll tell you, I couldn't get away from her fast enough during the dance. Your mother is partially to blame for that," she added, attempting to inject some levity into the tense air. And damned if she wasn't going to abandon her mother-in-law in turn after leaving her with Lady Charlotte.

Anna made a noise. "What'd she do?"

"Turned on me. Refused to dance and let the countess cart me off."

"I'll kill her for you," Anna mumbled into her shoulder.

Elsa laughed softly. "She is related to me now, too."

Anna made another noise, but soon fell silent. Her fingers were knitted into the back of Elsa's coat and the weight felt nice. Like an anchor.

"Anna?"

Anna didn't answer, but moved her head slightly in acknowledgment.

"If you're worried that I might... look elsewhere, I would never. I wasn't lying when I said I found you very beautiful." The very thought of it was both reprehensible and impossible. And she refused to think of how she was allowing Anna to do the very opposite—Anna wasn't the one in love with her.

"I know," Anna whispered.

* * *

The calling card bit was, by far, not the worst thing the Comtesse of Artois had ever done, but she did feel rather poorly about it. She hadn't really planned on it, but she simply couldn't pass up the opportunity when it presented itself. Lady Charlotte signaled a waiting footman outside for her carriage and reflected on the evening's events.

Queen Elsa was surprisingly easily needled, likely from youth and inexperience. She filed that away for future use.

And the princess consort was certainly as pretty and appealing as she'd been told, like a delicate rose. No wonder the queen was taken with her: that kind of innocence simply called to people. In men it probably would have inspired some protective sentiment that could be exploited to satisfying effect. She wondered if the queen would react in similar fashion.

Red lips curved. Very likely, she thought. But it was best to be careful around especially powerful figures. The queen was young and potentially unpredictable. Her initial impression was that Queen Elsa was neither feckless nor particularly hot-tempered, so she'd probably not come after her head after what happened tonight.

And another important detail: Queen Elsa was in love with Princess Anna. It was so terribly obvious, even though the queen masked her emotions well. The queen might as well have planted a placard on her head and announced it to the world. And the princess was not far behind; if she wasn't feeling similar feelings, she was well on her way. If nobody saw it—truth be told, the countess did excel at reading these kinds of things, so perhaps it was not as glaringly obvious as she thought, but in her opinion, most of nobility were blind fools and thus why they were just so easily played.

Ah, but still, young love. The queen and princess had made it altogether too easy for her, which was the trouble with young love—not very much trust built yet. But she imagined that they'd weather it. She hadn't done _that_ much; she'd even held back a bit. And the gossip would do the bulk of the damage.

Lady Charlotte just needed the queen to be properly distracted for the business negotiations.

And nothing distracted more than when your new spouse suspected wandering interest.

* * *

Alone on the balcony with Elsa, Anna couldn't control the thoughts that were running rampant through her mind.

Watching Elsa standing with her back to the night, her blonde hair shining in the soft light, looking so beautiful and, god, she was just too much. Elsa was too beautiful and perfect. She wasn't a person; she was a work of art, even when she looked harassed.

Anna had wanted to press herself to Elsa's chest, had wanted to so badly to touch her and affirm that Elsa was _hers_, Elsa had married _her,_ Elsa belonged to _her_. Princess Anna of Corona. Second born. Younger sister to the crown heir. Pretty enough face. Skilled at horseback riding, which was expected because that was Corona's specialty—horses. Competent with the pianoforte and most ballroom dances. Abysmal artistic skills. The beginning and end of all that was noteworthy of Princess Anna.

But she couldn't. She'd stood there, immobile, listening to Elsa explain why that countess was interested in her. About _business_. So the countess was not only beautiful like Elsa, she was educated. She was smart. She knew about business. She knew about the same things Elsa did. The countess was _useful_. Useful in the way Anna wasn't and couldn't be.

She couldn't stop thinking about the countess speaking to Elsa in French.

Dazed, she'd only been capable of staring at Elsa's face and wonder what she looked like while dancing with Lady Charlotte. The countess had contrasted so well next to Elsa with their opposite coloring that they could have been from a matched set. Like heaven and hell, or some other metaphor she couldn't come up with at the moment because Anna wasn't skilled in literature; she'd spent far too many lessons daydreaming of horses than classics. And the countess would be effortlessly graceful. Women like her simply were. Like Elsa was.

Elsa wouldn't need to recount childhood memories to help her walk down a flight of stairs. Elsa wouldn't need to catch her at her own wedding because she wouldn't be clumsy.

And if Elsa found Anna attractive, god only knew how she found the countess.

Anna had never felt so inadequate and foolish in her life. She'd rubbed her thumb against her wedding band, an act that should have been reassuring, but it instead felt like a heavy reminder to something that she should have thought of earlier: Had Elsa _wanted_ to marry her? Did she even _deserve_ someone like Elsa?

Then she'd found herself in Elsa's arms because Elsa had seen something in her, perfect creature that she was, and Anna had held on fiercely, her throat thick with the things she should have asked, and couldn't.

* * *

Corona, five years prior

_Anna was astride Dusk and guiding the stallion around in easy circles in the corral. He was improving, she thought with approval. His gait was easy and relaxed, and he didn't fight the bit anymore, but he was still spirited and playful._

"_A few more minutes and I'll take you for a good long run, how's that sound?" Anna murmured to him, watching his ears prick forward in interest. "I'm sure you'd love that."_

_She let him canter, guiding him with her knees into tighter and tighter circles until they were nearly to the center of the corral. Then she clicked with her tongue, pressed down hard on the saddle and gave the reins a tug._

_The gray stallion stopped short and lifted his forelegs high, pawing at the air with a theatric whinny. He held the pose for longer than he had in the past, then he dropped to all fours and stubbornly waited for his prize, not budging in the least. Anna laughed and rubbed his neck, fishing out sugar cubes that disappeared under a long tongue._

"_You're a good boy, even if you're a glutton," she said fondly._

"_That was lovely," a familiar voice called._

_Anna swiveled her head to the source and grinned widely in surprise. "Elsa!"_

_She kicked Dusk into a gallop to the fence where Elsa stood in a conservative blue dress and jacket, her blonde hair tied in a neat bun. Anna clambered over the fence and hugged Elsa, then sprang back._

"_Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry! I'm covered in dirt and sweat and I probably just ruined that outfit—"_

_Elsa laughed and hugged her again. "No, it's fine. I'm sure I have more of these. You're not that bad."_

_Anna grinned again and gave her breeches a few cursory pats to dislodge at least some of the dust. "Did you just get here?"_

"_I was watching you for a bit," Elsa admitted. "We arrived just an hour ago and I knew you'd be here. You ride so well; I think you've gotten even better since I saw last. I'm a little envious."_

_She laughed, her chest swelling with pride. "It runs in the family."_

"_I think you ride better than Kristoff. Or anybody else." She turned to Dusk before Anna could answer. "Is this the horse you mentioned in your letter? Dusk, the gray Andalusian, was it?"_

"_Oh, yeah, he's the one." Anna rubbed her palm against his cheek vigorously, knowing he liked that. He leaned his head toward her, enjoying the attention._

"_Well. It's hard to imagine this is the same one you talked about. He didn't allow anyone near him before, right?"_

_Anna smiled. "I've been working with him for a while. He's just a big baby now and I'm probably rotting his teeth out with all the sugar cubes I need to bribe him with."_

"_May I?"_

_Anna nodded. Elsa extended a hand. Dusk blew into it, then turned away with a snort._

"_Oh, don't worry, he does that to everybody," Anna said, unsurprised. "He'll warm up to you in a few days."_

_Elsa gave her a rueful smile. "It's all right." Suddenly, she looked uncomfortable, her gloved hands wringing themselves. "I'm… I wanted to ask you about… well. First, ah, how are you?"_

"_I'm fine, as you can probably see," she replied, then glanced down at her attire. "A bit dirty, too. I'm really sorry about that dress."_

"_No, it's really fine. You… you've grown a bit."_

"_Oh, really?" Anna was thrilled. "Huh, I guess you don't look as tall now. How many inches do you think I've got before I can catch up to you? Not that I'll ever get to Kristoff's height, but at least you won't have to hurt your neck looking down so much."_

_Elsa chuckled. "You've grown at least an inch, perhaps two. You use to be about… here," she said, holding her hand level with her chin. "You're almost to my nose now."_

_Anna pouted. "I'll catch up soon. You're almost done growing and Mother said I'll keep growing a bit more."_

"_Yes, I imagine so." Elsa's eyes fell away and she looked nervous again. "Speaking of well, the future… How to put this…"_

_Anna's brows rose. Elsa was rarely at a loss for words. Elsa was only sixteen years old, almost seventeen, but her speech never fumbled and she always spoke with an eloquence expected of her station. It was a little intimidating how well Elsa carried herself already, but it never bothered Anna._

"_The betrothal?" Anna prompted._

_Elsa flushed nearly to her hairline. "I—yes. Yes. You already know?"_

"_Papa told me." Anna turned her head to watch Dusk out of the corner of her eye when he wandered away. "It was a little surprising since I always thought I'd get, I don't know, someone I'd probably never met before."_

_Elsa hesitated, her expression unsure. "I see. Are you—are you all right with it? Because I can speak to my father and we don't need to do this, I mean, it wasn't at all what I was expecting either, but I don't—I don't want this to be _forced_—"_

"_It's not like I'm against it, Elsa," Anna said with a smile. Elsa looked so adorable at that moment, stuttering and uncertain, and she was supposed to be the older, mature one. Anna reveled in the difference a bit. "I just thought I'd be marrying a prince, is all. You know, a boy. For children," she added._

_Elsa looked like she was going to fall over from all the blood rushing to her head, her face was so red. "Children. I—yes, children. Offspring. Heirs." She blinked rapidly. Anna decided she ought contain her laughter to preserve Elsa's dignity. How strange that Elsa hadn't thought of heirs._

"_Well, yeah, to pass down the title and all," Anna said amiably. "Kind of like horses do for foals, except you need a boy and a girl, or I guess that's the stud and mare in horse terms. Oh, hey, I didn't get a chance to tell you in the last letter that Belamie foaled a colt a few weeks ago! He's so pretty, do you want to see him? I think he's going to be a good racer, just like his sire. They're probably grazing together"_

_Elsa stared at her, again at a loss for words. "I—well, yes, that would be lovely, but Anna… we're betrothed. Betrothed," she repeated, for emphasis._

_Anna nodded slowly, confused as to why Elsa was so concerned about it. "Right, we are. We're going to get married when I turn eighteen, which is when I come of age."_

"_Anna, are you actually amenable to this? You-you don't have any objections?"_

_Anna tilted her head. "Why would I? It's better than marrying a stranger. And you're my best friend, Elsa. You know about all sorts of things about me that I'd never tell anyone else. And I've already been to Arendelle and—oh, we'd be living in Arendelle Castle, right? Since you'd be queen?"_

_Elsa's eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing a few times. Anna couldn't quite smother her smile because she'd never seen Elsa look so surprised and caught off-guard. Well, marriage was a serious matter, but it seemed to mean a bit more for Elsa than it did Anna. "Yes," she finally said. "We—we would. Unless you prefer… elsewhere. Arendelle does have other… castles. And villas. We would move back once I'm crowned, but otherwise… elsewhere is fine as well."_

"_No, I like the castle. We can finally explore the rest of it without getting scolded if we don't make it back for dinner," Anna said. "Too bad about the weather, though," she continued absentmindedly, eyes back on Dusk. "Arendelle gets so cold sometimes and I don't think the horses would always like it."_

"_Oh, our stables. They're not really—comparable. To Corona's. We—we could change that. We can certainly afford to buy more, if you prefer." Elsa looked away. "I don't think we can do anything about the weather, though."_

_Anna laughed and gave Elsa's arm a gentle swat. "I'm not asking you to, silly, unless you've got a better control on the—" She wiggled her fingers at Elsa._

_Elsa frowned, but the corner of her lips twitched. "It's improving, a little," she allowed. "I've been practicing and—it's better."_

"_You'll have to show me later," Anna said. "I've always liked watching you do the magic."_

_Elsa huffed slightly. "It's not for play, Anna," she chided. "Hopefully I'll have it under better control when—when we're married." She still turned red at the last word, but not as bright as before._

"_I think you will," Anna said. "You've always worked so hard at it. It's bound to pay off."_

_Elsa didn't look as confident as Anna sounded, but nodded. "I hope so. But that aside… Anna, do you actually want to—to marry? To marry me?" _

"_Well, we're both princesses," Anna started. "And it's, you know, our duty, right? I mean, you're supposed to be queen of Arendelle one day, just like Kristoff is going to be king of Corona, and both of you definitely have to marry because it's, uh, what is it, just not done for a king or queen to be unmarried. And I have to marry, too, but I don't want to marry some old lord like Lady Marjorie had to, god, I heard he's old enough to be her _father—_"_

"_Didn't you—didn't you say you wanted to marry a prince?" Elsa interrupted._

_Anna shrugged. "It'd be nice if there someone out there who was handsome and funny and, you know, who Papa would actually like, but Mother says he has impossibly high standards even for a king, so…" She grinned at Elsa. "You already know all the bad parts about me and my best friend and I know you'd treat me well. What about me? Do you want to marry me?"_

_Elsa's eyes widened and she looked so startled again. "I—I would be honored," she stuttered, her face blushing again. "But I only—I only want to if you want to."_

"_I can't imagine why I wouldn't want to marry you," Anna said before she had to climb back into the corral. Dusk was looking like he was contemplating jumping the fence and she had to grab his reins to make him behave._

* * *

A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews/comments so far, I love any kind of feedback; as always, constructive criticism is welcome. As for update frequency (which some readers have asked for), I currently am juggling college and a full-time job, so writing 5k~ words a week is probably the best I can do.

Update: as of 2/28/14, this chapter was further revised with corrections to the French courtesy of Chibikrys. Thanks for your help!


	6. Chapter 6

"My goodness, dear, I would have had no idea you were capable of such histrionics if I hadn't last witnessed it the day Anna came to the world," was what greeted Elsa and Anna once they found Anna's parents.

Her father was working himself up into a near frenzy about something while her mother was standing by placidly and, with great amusement, making pointed remarks that her father was ignoring.

In other words, Anna thought, everything was normal.

"Oh, look, they've returned," her mother said, and whacked her father's arm solidly with her fan to interrupt another mumbled ramble. "Do calm yourself. You see? Both in one piece. I've no idea why you keep going on about crocodiles and sharks. Such an imagination, one does wonder how I've put up with it for so long."

"Mother," Anna said, tiredly. She had no doubts who they'd been talking about.

"Anna, what did that woman say to you?" Her father demanded. He probably would have seized her by the shoulders and shaken her if she wasn't tucked against Elsa's side, he looked so furious. "Whatever it was, do _not_ listen to a word of it! That woman is a poisonous spider—"

"Uncle," Elsa admonished. "Your voice."

Her father glanced at her, then drew himself up to his full height, every inch screaming displeased papa. "_You. You danced with her." _At least he wasn't yelling, Anna thought. She didn't think she could handle her own tattered emotions as well as her father in a mood tonight.

Elsa's eyebrows drew up. Anna wasn't sure if it was because her father looked intimidating or because the queen had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. Either way, Elsa maintained her composure before the Coronan equivalent of an enraged bull. "Yes," she said neutrally. "I did. It appears she has a reputation that I'm not aware of."

"How can you not know her?" Her father barked incredulously.

"Well, I didn't," her mother commented. "I've never heard of this woman for all her alleged infamy. And I am certainly far more social than either Elsa or Anna."

"Neither have I," Anna added. "Heard of her before tonight, that is."

King Frederick looked between all the females surrounding him and turned red in the face. "How—everybody _knows_—"

"Evidently not," Queen Alice said. "And the remarkable thing I see is that the only one who does appear to know this woman is a _man_." She pinned her husband with an unusually intense look. "Sharing stories over port and cigars again?"

Her father turned nearly puce.

"Do tell, dear, before the secrets just burst out of you," Queen Alice said dryly. "Have you actually met her?"

Her father looked like he wanted to stamp his foot, he was so agitated. Finally, he gritted out, "I've seen her once. At a diplomatic meeting. She was… she was… _hired_."

"To do what, provide secretarial services?" Her mother said. Anna nearly snorted out a laugh at the conjured image. It was just so incongruous even though nothing about this was very funny.

"As a _courtesan_," King Frederick forced out, giving Anna an apologetic look. "Damn it. This is no place to be speaking of this. I will not go into details, but that woman is a _mercenary_. She went after a man, a rich German, and before the week was out, word was that his wife had turned him out of his own house. And, by the end of the month, his company had sunk from scandal and some tradesman secret of his sold out on the street as common as a newspaper! She ruined him, make no mistake about it. Everybody knew it was her, that _comtesse_, and she vanished without a trace afterward."

"I see," was all Elsa had to say about it. She looked thoughtful.

"What? What is it?" Her father spat.

Elsa gave him a measured look. "Nothing in particular," she said. "Only that my father did warn me about… untoward attention. Many years ago, though. I didn't take him seriously. He was rather vague about it."

"Ah," Queen Alice said. "Alexander would have known about that sort of thing."

"What?" Anna asked, because she had no idea what anyone was talking about anymore. She was exhausted.

"Spies and thieves and that sort," Elsa said. Her lids lowered contemplatively. "I thought she was unusual for a business representative. Someone's hired her and she was here to… sniff at my heels, to put it crudely." Elsa grimaced in faint disgust. "And provoke me."

"She provoked you?" Anna asked.

"Yes, deliberately, to gauge my reactions. She caught me off-guard; I hadn't expected that sort of thing tonight. She had no intention of brokering any kind of deal." Elsa sighed. "The calling card was probably part of it. And that dress. I don't think I've ever had to stare at someone's face for such a prolonged period of time just to avoid having to look _down_."

Anna didn't want to think about Elsa staring at the countess's face, or any other part of her anatomy, and looked away.

"In any case," Elsa continued. "I won't be dancing with her again. Ever."

"Won't you have to meet with her?" The words were out of her mouth before Anna could stop them.

"After I've done some research on her," Elsa said. "I was unprepared tonight. I won't be again. And it's only fair—she found details about me."

Anna wanted to ask what kind of details, but kept her mouth shut this time.

"She's already left the party if the gossip's anything to go by. Certainly sounds like she was looking only for you," Queen Alice said.

Elsa looked relieved. "Thank god. I don't want to dance with anyone else—unless you want to, Anna?"

The younger woman shook her head. "No," she said, her voice thready. She cleared her throat. "I'd rather we just call it a night."

Her father sighed heavily, most of his temper forgotten. "I'm sorry that woman ruined your party. This was meant for you—_both_ of you," he said with a meaningful glance at Elsa.

Elsa looked over her shoulder at the guests, noting the quickly turning heads when they were caught staring. "Too early to end it," she said grimly. "We can give our apologies and just leave early, but the fact that we leave after I danced with the countess—" She grimaced again, clearly irritated at being forced to stay.

"Well, the gossip's already at full speed now." Queen Alice unfurled her fan and waved it gently before her face. "I would retire for the evening if I were you, darling," she said to her daughter gently. "It'll blow over soon enough." Anna swallowed. She knew why she ought to leave now—so she would not have to endure the inevitable whispers and speculative looks. It would be humiliating.

Elsa's hand covered hers and squeezed. "We'll retire for the evening," Elsa said firmly, as though she knew the train of Anna's thoughts. "Kai will see to it that everybody leaves before it gets late."

Her parents decided to stay for a little while longer. Elsa informed Kai to "boot everybody out before midnight," which made Anna smile. The butler nodded understandingly—he'd probably seen or heard what happened.

As they made their way out, Anna asked, "What should we do now?"

Elsa looked at her with momentary confusion, then her expression cleared. "Ah, I was thinking—well, it is a bit too early for... sleeping," she said. "I was thinking, if you'd be amenable to maybe a chess game? Or I could read to you, like when we were younger," she added. "Of course, we don't have to—"

Anna squeezed Elsa's elbow. "Any of those would be fine," she said with a small smile. "To the library, then?" She remembered a handsome carved marble chess set was kept there.

The queen nodded. "Yes, the library. The main one, anyway." They walked silently down the corridor away from the ballroom, strains of music trailing them.

"I'm sorry about what happened with the countess," Elsa said abruptly.

Anna looked up at her. Elsa was looking straight ahead, a muscle in her jaw twitching. She was angry, Anna realized.

"It's not your fault, Elsa."

Elsa exhaled sharply. "It is. I should have kept a better eye on the guest list. I didn't even know how many were invited, Anna, and—"

"And what, Elsa?" Anna interrupted, stopping to make Elsa face her. "Neither of us even _knew_ her. And even if you did, you couldn't have known that she was going to—to—"

"_Embarrass us_," Elsa ground out, her blue eyes turning razor sharp. If Anna thought it was possible, her pupils seemed to glow against the candlelight from the sconces that lined the walls. Her jaw tensed, like she was trying to not shout. "She came after me because of _my work_ and, by extension, she disrespected you. _My wife_."

Anna's eyes went wide with surprise. Where was this fury coming from? Elsa had acted calm in front of her parents. She was too shocked to say anything, and just stood there stupidly, watching Elsa struggle to control her temper.

Elsa's fists were clenched as she took deep breaths. "My failing," she muttered. Anna wasn't sure if Elsa was addressing her or talking to herself. "My responsibility. I will not allow it to happen again."

That snapped her out of whatever had gotten ahold of her tongue. "Elsa, you can't control gossip. Anything can happen at parties and—well, you know how it is. People talk. It's just the way it is and—"

"Then you don't allow the opportunity to exist in the first place," Elsa snapped. "'Pardon one offense, and you encourage the commission of many.'"

Anna's brow knitted. "Your father used to say that, didn't he?"

"Publilius. It doesn't matter—"

"Oh, god, Elsa, that sounds draconian, I hope you don't _actually_—"

"When the shoe fits—"

"And _what _are you going to do exactly, Elsa?" Anna demanded, her earlier diffidence forgotten. "Check the background of every guest of any social function we go to? Boot out anybody questionable? Because you did say your father even _warned_ you about people trying to get under your skirt!"

Elsa's face made an expression that Anna could not describe. The closest approximation was a cross between a violent facial tic and a bowel movement. They glared at each other.

Then: "'Under my skirt'?" Elsa said, with arctic majesty.

This time Anna could not prevent the undignified snort that welled up. She tried to hold it in, she really did.

"I'm not even _wearing _a skirt," Elsa continued in the same icily haughty tone and Anna dissolved into peals of helpless laughter.

When Anna recovered, Elsa's eyebrow was twitching madly and she was very pointedly looking anywhere but at her.

"Are you quite finished?" Elsa asked stiffly. "By all means, continue enjoying yourself at my expense."

"I'm sorry," Anna gasped, her belly aching from mirth. "But—your face, oh my god—"

Elsa turned on her heel and started striding away, her back ramrod straight again. Anna was honestly surprised that Elsa wasn't trailing frost and ice in her wake, though the atmosphere did feel distinctly chilly.

"Elsa!" Anna dashed after her, still chortling. "Don't be like that. You know I wasn't laughing _at_ you."

"No?" Elsa's voice was soft, her strides long. She stared directly ahead, her mouth a flat line.

"Not at all!" Anna grabbed Elsa's arm. "All right, at least look at me if we're going to talk."

"I thought I could at least not have to look at someone laughing _with_ me," Elsa replied tartly. She stopped and looked down at Anna, her eyes still glaring a little. "Anna, that woman ruined our wedding and you're willing to just _forget_ it?"

Anna sighed, her shoulders slumping, though Elsa's anger was rather gratifying, like a balm on a wound. "What happened wasn't... ideal," she managed. "But it's not like it really matters, right? I mean, we'll have more balls and dances and I suppose, if you really wanted to, you can comb through guests lists, though I think that's just wasted effort. Unless you just want to stop going to social functions altogether."

Elsa looked at her for a long moment, her expression cool. "I would not be opposed to that," she finally said. "To either one of those, but more so for the latter."

"No parties at all?" Which was not surprising at all, but Anna had thought Elsa would have to go to some since she was the queen. "Can you—can you _do _that?"

She was awarded with an amused look. "'I am the queen'," Elsa mocked gently. "'I can do whatever I like.' Though it sounds like it should be 'I _shall_ do whatever I like and damn the consequences. My wife has given me tacit permission to do so.'"

"Elsa!" Anna made to swat her arm, a laugh surprised out of her. Her cheeks warmed at the way Elsa addressed her as "my wife"—it was said with such affection, her low voice just a little rough over it, and not at all like before when she was angry. Anna wondered if Elsa would keep referring her that way and if Anna would survive the intonations. Probably not. "You can't blame that on me! I won't be the cause of some social faux pas because you took what I said out of context!"

The queen rubbed at her arm where Anna had hit her even though Anna hadn't put much force behind it. "I'll keep that in mind," she murmured, her face neutral. "Apparently, my wife may resort to physical discipline..."

"Elsa!" Anna gasped. The "my wife" was sending pleasant shivers down her spine and melting her insides. If Elsa kept that up she'd probably end up a puddle on the floor. "You're teasing me!"

"Deservedly," Elsa agreed. A faint smile danced on her lips. "I seem to remember you laughing at—ah, forgive me, _with—_me earlier."

Anna reddened. She really did deserve it for laughing at Elsa like that. But the look on her face really was priceless, so she wasn't terribly regretful. "Well. Would you really not go to any parties?" She asked, deliberately changing the topic.

She could see in the way Elsa's smile widened, just a little, that the queen knew what she was about.

"I've already been doing it," Elsa answered. "And after what happened tonight, well, let's say I'd be inclined to continue the practice. Some truly are unavoidable, but I wouldn't force you to attend with me if you didn't want to. And, of course..." Elsa took her hands in hers and squeezed them gently, the hard edge of her eyes gone and replaced with something that looked suspiciously like humor. "If you wanted to go to them, I would always want to go with you."

Anna pressed her lips together, at a loss for words. Elsa was getting really good at that—making her speechless. It was an achievement given her propensity to fill any silences with clumsy chatter. She had an overwhelming urge to kiss Elsa and those lapels were simply calling to her again. As her eyes dropped to them, perhaps to concede the battle, Elsa leaned in. Anna's eyes widened.

Was Elsa going to kiss her? Without Anna needing to demand it or wheedle it out of her?

Elsa's lips pressed a kiss to her forehead gently. Anna tried not to pout—the gesture was sweet and affectionate again, so disappointment seemed out of place.

"I think we've just had our first fight," Elsa murmured against her temple, her warm breath ghosting over Anna's skin. Her belly flipped.

"I think so, too," Anna managed to say. "On our wedding day, no less. Glad we got that out of the way."

Elsa let out a surprised chuckle, then pulled back. "Are you sure you're not tired? We can retire for the evening. It has been a long day."

She shook her head, not wanting to break the moment. "No, I'm fine. We can go to the library and you can trounce me at chess as payback."

Elsa released one of her hands and tucked the other under her elbow. "I haven't played in some time, actually. Not since—" She cut herself off.

Anna knew, though. _Not since Uncle Alexander died_. Elsa had always played with her father—he was the only one Elsa had not been able to beat—it helped, Elsa had said, with controlling the magic, sometimes. _What, losing all the time? _Anna had once asked as a little girl and confused as to why Elsa would want to keep repeating the exercise when Uncle Alexander was so merciless at the game. Elsa had laughed and said it wasn't about the outcome, but the process—learning to think differently, to contemplate different strategies. Anna hadn't quite understood it then, but…

She leaned against Elsa in comfort. Anna thought it may have been because Elsa had simply enjoyed spending time with her father that didn't involve endless lessons and work.

* * *

The library was dark and drafty. Elsa stifled a sigh. She should have sent a servant to at least start a fire, which would take some time to warm the room anyway since it was cavernous—another dubious ancestral improvement. At least the chess set was close to the fireplace.

"I'll get the fire going," Elsa said as Anna sat on one of the large plush armchairs bracketing the chess board. Anna nodded and rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms absentmindedly, eyes searching for the drawer where the pieces were kept.

The queen lit a few candles and removed her coat. After a moment's hesitation, she settled it over Anna's shoulders. Anna looked up in surprise.

"The cold doesn't bother me, remember?" Elsa said by way of explanation. She cleared her throat. "I'll get that fire started now." As she turned, she missed Anna's smile and the way the younger woman pulled the coat tighter around her shoulders.

As she built up the fire, the radiant heat warmed her cheeks and Elsa tugged at her collar, silently cursing the constrictive thing. Feeling too hot already, she removed her vest and draped it over her free arm. She could hear Anna setting the pieces on the board behind her. It was a comfortable silence that they shared, and one that Elsa was loath to interrupt. She finally got to her feet after no amount of poking was going to get the fire any higher, and left her vest on the back of another armchair before settling down across from Anna.

"I see that I will be black," Elsa said with a smirk. "No coin toss? Drawing blind from the box?"

"Well, I'm going to need every advantage I can get if this is going to be even remotely fair, Elsa," Anna said, adopting her haughtiest look that only made Elsa smile. If there was one thing Anna was not suited for, it was aloofness. Her face was too expressive for it.

"By all means," Elsa conceded gracefully. "Your move then, my lady."

About ten moves along was when Anna began carping about handicaps, which was a bit longer than Elsa had anticipated the younger woman would hold out. "Is this a _serious_ match, Elsa? Because you're more experienced and I haven't played in _ages—"_

Elsa promptly held up a black marble bishop and a black marble rook and placed them on Anna's side. "There," she said.

She pouted, clearly having expected Elsa to fight her on it. Anna moved a knight.

Elsa knew she could take it with little to no consequence, but she simply looked at the gleaming piece with faint nostalgia. "I remember when you said your favorite piece was the knight because they looked like horses," she said suddenly.

Anna blinked, then grinned. "You're right," she said. "I do still like them for that. And the way they move in that L-shape. It seemed… strange. That they could jump over pieces like that. Strange and special because no other piece could do that."

"Appealed to your sense of whimsy?" Elsa asked.

Anna laughed. "I think so. I was only a child, then. And I really liked horses." And Anna still did.

Elsa shook her head. "I tried not to take your knights when we played," she confessed. "You always looked so sad when I did."

She watched Anna's brows rise, her lips parting in surprise. "Did you really?"

Elsa nodded. The admission probably should have embarrassed her, but it didn't. It was simply the truth.

"That's… well. Sweet of you," Anna said, her cheeks blushing.

"Oh, don't thank me. It was difficult," Elsa continued. "Trying to win while your knights wreaked havoc in the center field because you were so aggressive with them. It certainly taught me to… play differently," Elsa chuckled. It also meant Elsa had to be absolutely ruthless and win very quickly if she could not take Anna's knights. She wondered if her father knew for he'd watched a few of their games. He couldn't have expected Anna to prove any match to Elsa, not when a young Anna had no aptitude or interest in the game, but surely… He must have known, Elsa decided. Her father knew her style of play well, and could spot inconsistencies on the board as well as in the accounting books. She wondered if that was what had given her away—her feelings for Anna. She'd never had any intention of ever acting on those feelings and for her own father to force her…

She shook her head inwardly. The thought was just as whimsical as Anna's fondness for knights. It was only a game, not a love letter.

But she did not take Anna's vulnerable knight; old habits were hard to break, or perhaps Elsa just wasn't willing to be free of this particular one. Instead, she moved her other bishop. The game continued for a few more moves until it was Anna's turn. Anna frowned and looked about her remaining pieces. The white side was considerably more populated than black. "Elsa, are you letting me win?"

"Really, Anna," Elsa said archly. "You don't need to rub it in. I admitted that I am a bit rusty and I _did _sacrifice one of my bishops and rooks for you—"

"I have both my knights still," Anna declared, eyeing her suspiciously. "And I _know_ I'm useless at chess. And you just told me you used to handicap yourself with my knights and _still _win."

Elsa hid her smile. She was, in fact, letting Anna win, but for entirely selfish reasons. She liked watching Anna ponder over each move, the furrow of her brow, the way she chewed on her lower lip as she tried to decide which piece to play. And seeing Anna under her coat—well. There was no way to describe it other than to try to ignore the swell of possessiveness and warmth. She wouldn't be surprised if it would actually affect her chess game if she were to play seriously, though she had seen at least three different ways to victory since the game had started. But she preferred gazing at an Anna undergoing ferocious concentration to winning a game she hadn't touched in over three years.

"Would you prefer that I end the game?" Elsa asked gently. "I can win within… three, maybe five, moves. Depending on what you do."

Anna scowled at her. "Are you showing off?"

Elsa shook her head. "That would be unsporting," she answered honestly.

Anna looked this way and that at the board, scowled again, then grudgingly said, "Show me."

Elsa held out her hand. It was something her father had done when he had shown her why she had lost—made her extend her hand into his and he would move each individual piece that contributed to the defeat as a way to have her learn from her mistakes. She realized too late the effect Anna's touch would have on her, even through the gloves, and just managed not to let her hand shake.

"Well, if I take your bishop here..." Elsa curled Anna's hand around the curved head and placed it the piece to the side. "Then you may move here and take this pawn. As it happens, with the current state of the game, it does not matter if you take my pawn." She knocked the piece over and allowed it to roll about on the board.

Anna frowned. "Poor pawn."

"Sacrifices," Elsa agreed. "Then I would move my rook here." She guided Anna's hand to pick up the steepled black piece to place it near her white king. Anna's hand was warming her palm through the glove and Elsa had to focus to not let it distract her.

"Knowing you, you will triumphantly move your knight to claim my queen while ignoring my rook as your king is not in imminent danger or check. And you did always like taking the large important pieces." When Anna made a sound of affirmation, Elsa smiled. She flicked the black queen over and moved Anna's knight to take its place.

"An acceptable loss for me, because I will then move my remaining bishop to force you into checkmate—here." Then, encircling Anna's wrist, she brought the younger woman's hand all the way to the blonde's side of the board to allow her to pick up her aforementioned bishop and planted it a space away from Anna's white king.

She could feel Anna's pulse thrum under her thumb and resisted the urge to caress it. She ought to let go. She _should _let go. But she didn't. Anna's slender hand remained in hers, limp and compliant, waiting for instruction.

"And that is checkmate," she finished. The library was warm now, and smelled gently of burning wood. Her coat was still draped over Anna, covering her bare shoulders. Anna looked good in it, wearing Elsa's clothes, her eyes still upon the board, contemplating what Elsa had shown her. The queen drank the sight of her in and felt like an idiot. A lovesick idiot who was bound to have her heart broken and _goddamn it, her hand was still holding onto Anna_.

Anna was so beautiful. Elsa loved every part of her. Her freckled skin, her blue eyes, her lovely copper hair, the open honesty of her face, the sweet whimsical side of her. All of it that made Anna who she was. And beneath her hand, Elsa knew Anna's hands would be calloused from gripping reins, though she may not have been riding much of late—the callouses would be fading, then. And Anna was so graceful on a horse—she rode like she was born in the saddle and Elsa could just watch Anna ride and she would be content.

She wasn't prepared for the rush of tenderness that filled her chest and throat, and it rendered her silent. She knew what Anna's lips felt like now, knew how she tasted, how Anna would tug at her plaintively when she thought Elsa was not kissing her enough. She knew how Anna sounded when Elsa had done something to please her. And she knew how it felt to dance with Anna. These were things that Elsa thought she would never have the privilege of knowing, even during the course of their betrothal, and to have experienced it all on the same day, as well as _wedding _her... Elsa still wondered, at the back of her mind, if the day was just a particularly vivid and prolonged dream because there were far too many fulfilled wishes for it to be real.

The silence stretched. Anna's eyes, so dear, rose to meet hers. Before Elsa knew it, Anna had picked up her white king and delivered the piece slowly, with Elsa's _damned hand still on her wrist like a shackle_, to Elsa's side of the board. The marble piece clicked gently next to Elsa's felled queen that was listing by her black king ensconced by a cadre of pawns.

She tried not read anything into it. It was customary to present the winner with the most important piece—the king. It was… it was…

Elsa didn't know anymore. She hadn't been lying when she said that it had been a long day. Too much had happened to her, battered her, worn her down—a wedding, ardent kisses in a carriage, showed her half-clothed female form to Anna, another kiss before the ball, the dance, the damnable _comtesse_—who she was determined to crush for almost ruining it all unless Anna was going to stop her in that regard as well—and a chess game that had become too intimate, mixed in with memories of her father. She was drowning in emotion and didn't want to even try to understand it.

And of course, there was Anna herself, who always overwhelmed Elsa on every front imaginable. She had no defenses against Anna because she didn't _want_ to shield herself from Anna, even if it meant preserving herself. Anna was simply a part of her. She thought about those letters made with Anna's words and every cherished childhood memory and—yes. Always a part of her. Anna had shaped her to who she was now.

Elsa finally allowed her mind to empty into comforting oblivion. She exhaled slowly, the sound deafening in the silence, her limbs relaxing. She was well and truly exhausted.

Whatever was going to happen would happen. She would not fight it.

She released Anna and, with a brush of a gloved finger, Elsa surrendered her king and waited.

* * *

A/N: So, it occurred to me that people may still be expecting the story to fall within the parameters of the original Tumblr prompt that I posted on chapter one. To be honest, I had not expected this fic to grow and take on a life of its own as it has, and I don't really want readers to continue without some clarification. So, basically, the prompt is kind of null and void at this point. While yes, there will be misunderstandings, I don't intend on writing contrived situations just for the sake of the prompt, and these misunderstandings will have some justification, namely, the state of Elsa and Anna's relationship at that point. I'd like their marriage/relationship to evolve with them.

**So, tl;dr version:** Ignore the prompt from here on. Actually, you can probably ignore the prompt from chapter one forward. Do not base your expectations on the prompt. And sorry for the long A/N, I do dislike writing long ones, but I didn't want readers to be misled about the story's focus.

Also, thanks continue to go out to TheKyttin13 for so much excellent beta-ing work, as well as 4mation for reading this particular chapter over and telling me it isn't terrible.

Some astute people may have noticed that the rating has changed to 'M'. This will be for sexual content in later chapters. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated. I do apologize for the glacial pace in-story; we are STILL on the wedding day, but it's almost over...

PS- I almost forgot, but there was a reviewer who asked for a picture of the suit I used as reference for Elsa's outfit during the dance. I've provided a link in my profile for anyone interested.


	7. Chapter 7

Anna kept looking at her knights.

The chess pieces were finely carved and imported from Italy. She knew because Uncle Alexander had given it to Elsa as a birthday present and Anna had been present for the occasion. She remembered Elsa's surprise at the beautiful gift and how her face had lit as Elsa touched each piece reverently as though they were already family heirlooms. Elsa had just turned eleven and Anna had been eight.

It wasn't until later, when Uncle Alexander had set up the board to play a match with Elsa in a corner, that Anna had quietly asked her father, King Frederick, why Elsa would want another chess set. After all, Elsa already had a set made of mahogany and it was just as nice. Her father had said that that set was getting worn; Elsa still sometimes froze the pieces by accident and the damp was damaging the wood finish. Marble, while heavy, could tolerate the frost without complaint.

Elsa had never used the wooden set again; every subsequent chess game had been played with the marble set. Anna was quite familiar with it, but she still felt vaguely stupid for not realizing earlier that Elsa never took her knights. At the start, probably before Elsa had taken up her sweet, mad quest to not steal the pretty horses that Anna liked so much, Anna had considered it a triumph if she survived a game without losing her knights—she wouldn't even try to save both. Just one would have been enough. Anna had known she couldn't beat Elsa; the very notion of actually winning was rather quixotic. So she'd focused on what she could achieve, which was preserving her favorite piece.

And then Elsa had decided not to take them at all, simply because Anna had looked _sad_. Anna wished she'd known, though she wasn't sure what she'd have done with the knowledge. And Elsa had always won so fast, butchering Anna's side with the swiftness of an executioner; but at the time, a young Anna would have just been relieved that it was over with and eager for Elsa to be released from her lessons for the day to play.

It was so _romantic_. So stupidly romantic. Who needed a dragon to slay when one had a princess—well, queen now—making such gestures? And it couldn't have been meant to be romantic because Elsa had done it as a child and probably only did it as a small mercy.

Still, Anna felt very touched, so she did not begrudge Elsa for letting her win the current game. They both knew Anna was terrible at chess and she finally confronted Elsa about it.

Elsa offered to end the game within just a few moves.

"Show me," Anna said, extending her hand to meet Elsa's.

Elsa's hand covered hers. A cloth-covered palm slid over the back of Anna's hand, scraping her knuckles. Certainly not a child's hand anymore; Elsa's fingers were just a bit longer than Anna's, but still slender. Elsa's hand cradled the back of Anna's, guiding her to a chess piece and, with the lightest touch, their fingers just barely tangling, urged Anna to grasp her white bishop. The younger woman could feel Elsa's warmth and presence seeping into her bones like the reverb of waltz music.

Anna tried to focus on Elsa's voice as the queen explained her strategy. Anna preferred the tangible and the present, like the feel of a saddle beneath her and the sun on her face; she'd never been one to ponder abstract strategies or anticipate an opponent's tactics, but she could admire Elsa's ability to think like that and how Elsa's mind was always working and adapting to Uncle Alexander's lessons.

Elsa's voice was almost clinical in the way she explained each move, but there was an undercurrent of fondness when she considered how Anna would most likely move. And Elsa was right in all her predictions, but Anna wasn't surprised at her own transparency; Elsa simply knew these things like the way she knew what chocolates Anna liked. And the fact that Elsa knew Anna so well endeared the queen to Anna in ways she had difficulty articulating.

And then Elsa's hand curved around her wrist before Anna realized what she was doing. Her thumb swept up to fit neatly under the bump of Anna's wrist bone and around to meet her opposing middle finger that had slipped under the joint. Anna's pulse fluttered beneath Elsa's delicate hold like a caught bird, right against the queen's fingertips.

The feel of Elsa holding her like this, touching the vulnerable skin underneath and knowing the cadence of her heart made Anna swallow. The touch was shockingly sensual and intimate. Anna had never felt anything like it before. She had to grip the edge of the table with her free hand to find some respite from what she was feeling and bite her lip to keep from groaning out loud. She was entirely warm, almost burning, and the fact that Elsa's coat was covering her, immersing her in Elsa's scent, only made her ache all the more with want. It might as well have been Elsa herself embracing her, but only Elsa's hand was on her, her grasp innocent, but it didn't _feel_ that way.

And Anna knew, she knew, that she would be undone if she looked at Elsa's face and saw any signs of reciprocation. She would crawl over that damn board, uncaring of her spared knights and pawns and bishops, right into Elsa's lap and kiss her until Anna could fill that growing void that gnawed inside her. She fixed her eyes on the board and hoped she looked attentive, trying to measure her breaths to not turn into outright gasps.

Elsa drew her hand forward with the lightest touch, like a skilled rider's tug upon reins, and Anna followed with the obedience of a well-trained mount. Was Elsa going to…? Oh, god. Anna managed to contain her swallow when she saw that Elsa was not going to drag their joined hands anywhere on the queen's person, stopping just above Elsa's remaining black bishop.

Right, they were still on the subject of chess. Chess had never been this scintillating before. She doubted Elsa was doing it on purpose and it made it even more intense that Elsa could have such a profound effect on her without trying. God. She was probably going to go to hell for having these thoughts. And all the other thoughts she'd been entertaining throughout the day.

On that cheerful note, Anna followed Elsa's cue and took the bishop. Elsa guided it back to Anna's entrapped white king.

"And that is checkmate." Elsa's voice broke through Anna's dazed state.

Yes, it was checkmate. Anna had just been thoroughly thrashed and did not care in the least. Not that she had before either, but still, it was a small comfort to know that at least the difference of chess proficiency hadn't changed in the past few years.

Infinitely more importantly, though, Elsa had not let her go. Her hand was still cupped around Anna's wrist as though it was made of glass. Anna bit her lip again, trying to make herself breathe, but all she could smell was Elsa. Winter's scents, she thought, and the barest trace of lavender. Her other hand was shaking with the force of her grip on the table and it was so tenuous already. The longer Elsa held her, the more Anna _wanted_.

But words were not coming to her. Her mind felt sluggish, unable to conjure up a single coherent thought, but she was feeling so much. She didn't even know if she wanted to tell Elsa because imagining what Elsa might do…

With her almost unaware of it, Anna's captive hand found her defeated, but still standing, white king. She finally looked up and saw Elsa watching her intently.

Elsa looked so elegant in her white shirt and black cravat, her pale hair like spun gold in the fire's light. Their eyes met and Anna's throat closed, speech fleeing her. What words could she offer to Elsa? Anything Anna could come up with seemed wholly inadequate for her. She wasn't a poet nor an artist; she was simply Anna and that had never felt so sharply lacking before than it did in the current moment. But Elsa still had not released her wrist and that had to mean something. It had to. She hoped Elsa would understand.

Anna moved her king to Elsa, placing it next to her black king. An offering.

Elsa's eyes were steady, not breaking away until the queen finally shut her lids and sighed. She freed Anna, her gloved hand retreating.

The memory of Elsa's hand on hers burned like an iron brand just lifted away from flesh, the heat—or the absence of it— lingering further like an old wound reminding its owner of her error.

Anna saw Elsa's black king topple over and careen into the presented white king. She looked back at Elsa. The queen looked so tired and defeated, like she had been the one who'd just lost the match, but nobody looked that sad over a chess game.

Anna's heart clenched.

Elsa looked so _human_. What had she been thinking, comparing her to such lofty inanimate things like paintings? Elsa was flesh and blood, albeit exceptionally beautiful, but a person, and one who hurt.

Before she could think about it, before she could over-complicate it with doubt, Anna grabbed Elsa's dominant hand and rose off her armchair, Elsa's coat sliding off her shoulders. Anna splayed her other hand on the board to lean over it, knocking pieces askew and sending them tumbling to the floor. Anna didn't care, they were just game pieces, not tiny messengers. Standing stock still, eyes locked to Elsa's wide, surprised ones, Anna dragged Elsa's hand to her cheek, making Elsa touch the younger woman's face.

Elsa's breath rushed out as her lips parted. Her jaw hung open in abject shock and confusion.

As a grand gesture, it failed on a few points, especially since the person it was meant for was staring at Anna like she'd just gone stark raving mad. What Anna had meant to do was show Elsa that she wasn't alone, that her pain could be shared. Anna had seen the same gesture in a production of _Romeo and Juliet_ some years ago during a part where the lovers were going on about their forbidden love. There'd also been a great deal of melodramatics that had made her father roll his eyes and her mother dab at hers, and for some reason, that particular scene with the face touching had stayed with Anna.

The failing, though, was exactly because Anna had not thought it through (Elsa had not been present for the play and clearly had no idea what Anna was up to), but it was the thought (or lack of it) that counted. So, Anna completed it by gripping Elsa's wrist, drawing the queen's hand downward, and beginning to peel Elsa's glove off.

Elsa almost lurched back, her shock was so great. Her jaw worked, struggling to speak, but no words came out. Anna wanted to crow—she'd rendered Elsa entirely speechless. Her hand started to tremble in Anna's, but Anna continued on her mission, suddenly brimming with confident purpose.

Anna started by tugging at each clothed fingertip, grasping the cloth deftly between her own fingers. She wasn't a stranger to gloves at all; she'd often ridden with leather gloves. But taking off someone else's gloves—well, that was an entirely new experience for the younger woman.

She'd made it to three fingers before Elsa managed to collect her wits.

"Anna, what are you—what are you _doing_?" Elsa demanded in a furious whisper, her voice reed-thin, like she couldn't get enough air.

Anna gripped Elsa's wrist in a firmer hold to keep the queen in place. "Taking off your glove," she replied in an unexpectedly steady voice, enjoying the blush that spread over Elsa's cheeks. She knew, somewhat vaguely anyway, that what she was doing was not really appropriate and, for Elsa, Anna could have just said "stripping you nude" and it wouldn't have been any more startling.

Elsa looked like she might faint, so it was a good thing she was still sitting. "_Why_?"

Anna didn't answer, merely tugging the cloth free of Elsa's thumb. "Am I not allowed to?" She countered.

The blonde opened her mouth, then shut it. Elsa simply sat there, quivering and wordless.

Anna pulled the glove off completely and sent it flying carelessly over her shoulder.

Elsa drew in a sharp breath. Anna glanced at her, but Elsa's face was just stunned, though probably not for long, so Anna pressed home her advantage. Elsa's bare hand was pale like the rest of her, which then occurred to Anna that she didn't know how pale Elsa's body was. But she would find out. Yes, going to hell. Nobody should be this happy about it, though.

The thought was heady and Anna had to breathe in and out a few times herself to keep from swooning for real. She focused back on Elsa's hand. Her fingers were long and tapered, like a pianist's. There were no signs of callouses as Anna knew that Elsa almost never took the gloves off. Perhaps that had changed in the past four years, but going by how unblemished her hand was without even the slightest traces of ink stains or scars…

Anna was likely the first person who'd had the privilege of touching Elsa's bare hand in a very long time. That thought was just as heady as the image of a naked Elsa. Elsa's hand was practically _virginal_.

The thought was unexpectedly, and painfully, erotic. Anna tingled with the knowledge. And she knew what she wanted to do about that.

Anna bent her head down and pressed a kiss to Elsa's palm. The skin was soft as a feather and silky smooth, and the queen trembled. Anna thought she heard Elsa groaning softly. She flicked her eyes up and saw Elsa's eyes closed tight and her throat bobbing.

Emboldened, Anna turned Elsa's hand over and brushed her lips over each knuckle. In a way, she was returning the kiss Elsa had given to Anna's hand on the stairs in apology before Anna, greedy as she had been, asked for more. The queen's hand quivered again and there was another sound that was part gasp and part groan that left a pleasant coiling sensation in Anna's belly. With each kiss, she lingered just a little, letting her warm exhales wash over pale skin. Elsa's hand flexed every time—her hands may have been pampered, but the strength in them was undeniable.

When she was done, Anna lowered Elsa's hand, her own breaths quickening. Anna's skin was on fire, but Elsa looked… god, Elsa looked _ruined_.The queen's other hand was digging into the arm of her chair and her face was blushing heavily, eyes closed and mouth panting. Her blonde hair somehow looked slightly mussed even though it was still tied back.

Anna wanted to groan herself. God. She'd never seen anything so provocative. Lady Charlotte had nothing on Elsa. Nothing at all.

Then Elsa's eyes opened and she looked at Anna for a moment, blue pupils dilated, and said in the lowest, roughest tone Anna had ever heard from her, the kind that forbade defiance, "_Come here_."

An electric shock went down her spine and Anna obeyed without question. She released Elsa's hand, skirted around the table, and then she was in Elsa's arms, legs straddling either side of the queen's lap, and their lips crashing together.

Anna cupped both sides of Elsa's jaw and feasted on her mouth. It was as though she was starving and all she could do was kiss Elsa to keep from dying. And Elsa tasted like the chocolates they'd shared, a surprise that made Anna hum.

Their kisses were rough, much rougher than their previous ones. They were clumsy despite the practice, finesse forgotten in the face of raw hunger. Teeth were bumped together and lips bruised, but neither cared and continued to press fervently against each other.

Anna nipped Elsa's lower lip experimentally, shivering when Elsa moaned at the tiny hurt. And then Anna felt arms wrapping around her waist, trying to fit her into a better position without breaking their kiss. The younger woman tried to help and shifted gracelessly about, her beautiful green dress tangling and getting in the way, until Elsa made a noise that sounded like utter frustration and actually _cupped Anna's bottom with her hands_ to ease her into place. Anna gave a shocked whimper, but slid forward obligingly, her hips nestled against Elsa's abdomen.

Elsa felt hot even through the layers of clothes. Anna could feel Elsa's breasts against her own, wonderfully soft, and Anna was surprised at how much she wanted to just slide her hands down past Elsa's shoulders and sternum and _touch—_

And then Elsa interrupted that thought by ghosting her naked hand up the back of Anna's dress, fingers gliding up past the stays where the dress ended just below Anna's shoulder blades and onto bare skin, making her brain just fizzle like a dying candle. Elsa's hand was on her bare skin. _On her bare skin._

Anna moaned into Elsa's mouth. Elsa's palm was hot on her back, sliding up and disappearing briefly until Anna felt a tug—Elsa had a hold of the green ribbon woven into her hair.

Elsa broke the kiss, her breathing puffing against Anna's lips, and said in guttural voice, "Your hair, Anna, I want your hair _down now—_"

Again, Anna obeyed without thinking. She sat back on Elsa's thighs and immediately began pulling the pins and ribbon out. Anna didn't make a show of it—she simply dragged her fingers through her tresses to pull them free of the bun and plait. She could feel Elsa's eyes burning on her skin and, for the first time, felt truly desired and wanted.

Finally, copper locks fell down past her shoulders and upper back. Elsa wasted no time—she pulled Anna back, tilting Anna's head back with her other gloved hand on her jaw and the queen pressed her lips to Anna's vulnerable neck. Anna bit down on her lip to stifle what would have been an embarrassingly loud cry, arching into Elsa. God, Elsa's hand was at her back again, fingers tangled in her loose auburn hair and holding Anna in place.

Anna felt as though every nerve in her was shivering alive. She was mindless with enjoyment, trying to contain her whimpers while Elsa did delicious things to her throat that—and, oh, _Jesus_, Elsa actually trailed her tongue along the tendon in Anna's neck. Her knees turned to jelly and she unconsciously lifted her hips, releasing a strangled sound of pure pleasure. Shaking, Anna shoved at Elsa's shoulders until the blonde's back was flat against the armchair.

"Not fair," Anna whispered, her eyes staring down into Elsa's, their foreheads touching. Her long hair curtained their faces in, shielding them from the outside world.

"What isn't?" Elsa asked, head leaning back to watch Anna. Her voice was a low purr that slid over Anna's skin like a caress. That voice was going to kill her, Anna was sure of it. Elsa's wrists were pinned under Anna's hands on the chair's arms, but the queen didn't look the least bit perturbed that she was being restrained.

"That you can… do these things," Anna said back. Her eyes flicked to the side, past Elsa's face. "Don't move."

Elsa nodded once, but her eyes heated in the way that meant her obedience was only temporary.

Anna reached for the blue ribbon end that peeked over Elsa's shoulder and pulled it free; the knot was simple and gave way easily. And now they were even, Anna thought with satisfaction. Elsa shook her head slightly to spread the previously tied hair.

Then Anna raised her hands to Elsa's cravat and sat back to examine the knot. Much more complicated than the hair ribbon had been, the younger woman decided. She snuck a peek at the queen—Elsa was watching her beneath hooded lids, hands still limp, but she exuded a dangerously unpredictable air, like the snow leopard Anna had compared her to.

Anna squirmed. She found it so arousing that it had to be plain as day. Her fingers shook as she held the silk and started to undo it.

"Someone told me it's usually the valet or my wife who is supposed to do this," Elsa said softly.

"I did offer my services earlier," Anna said, her words just as soft.

"Yes, but I think that's for putting it on."

"Oh, should I leave the removing to you, then?" Anna asked coyly. "I'm just about… done." She slid the cravat off and tossed it somewhere, probably wherever the blue ribbon had ended up. She smirked challengingly at Elsa. "It's gone now. Unless you want me to get it and put it back on you. I'd be quite happy to—" She had no intention of leaving, but she made to lift herself off Elsa, just to see what she would do.

Elsa's response was immediate and gratifying—she seized Anna by the hips and yanked her back down. Blue eyes glared up at Anna in ill temper.

"No." Elsa sounded exceptionally cross. "Leave it."

Anna settled back into Elsa's lap and boldly draped her arms around the blonde's shoulders. She kissed Elsa lightly in apology. "Your other glove's still on," Anna murmured.

"Mm. I'm sure you'll find some way to take care of that. You did with the first one."

Anna giggled and drew back, smiling. The atmosphere had calmed and turned playful. At least they weren't frantically clawing at each other in a craze of lust. And Elsa's lap was remarkably comfortable. "Do you want me to?"

Wordlessly, Elsa held up her gloved hand between their faces. "By all means," she said dryly. "It seems like I have no choice in the matter."

Well. "By all means" was certainly leaving it up for interpretation. Anna half-considered pulling the glove off with her teeth, just to watch Elsa eat her words, but decided to just tug it off in the most pedestrian and least provocative manner possible—she was enjoying the playful freedom. Elsa's remaining glove joined the cravat and ribbon, or Anna assumed it did; she really had no interest in things that kept Elsa covered up.

Elsa settled her hands back on Anna's hips and glanced at the younger woman. "Whatever just happened," she started.

Anna tensed. She didn't have a good feeling about whatever Elsa had to say.

Elsa frowned, noticing Anna's reaction. "I was going to say that it wasn't my fault this time," she finished neutrally. "Unless you think otherwise."

Anna stared at her. "Why does it need to be anybody's fault?"

Elsa stared back. "Anna, we almost consummated our marriage _in the library_."

Well. When Elsa put it that way… "But you didn't even get under my skirt," Anna said with a cheeky grin. "Even I know that to consummate a marriage, you need to—"

Elsa closed her eyes in apparent mortification and covered her face with a hand as Anna started laughing. "No! Stop that train of thought at once. Good god, Anna." The queen peeked through her fingers at the younger woman. "I don't think I will ask you how you know how marriages are consummated."

"I've seen horses being bred, Elsa," Anna giggled. "I know how the… mechanics work. I presumed marital relations are similar," she finished, affecting an airily knowledgeable tone.

Elsa groaned, but didn't deny it. "No details, please. Especially not about horses."

"What, have you never seen animals breeding? Not even a barn cat or stray dog somewhere?"

Elsa glared at her, cheeks pink. "Why would there be a stray animal of any kind wandering the castle? Much less multiple of the same to procreate?" She asked icily.

Anna laughed again. Oh, goodness, but Elsa was _sheltered_. It was both sweetly endearing and empowering—Anna was used to thinking that Elsa knew, well, just about everything. Clearly she would need to adjust her expectations. The younger woman fingered Elsa's collar and smiled down at her fondly. "You need to get out more."

"To see how more cats are made?" Elsa said with a faint curl of her lip and looking very snobby indeed.

Anna was not offended in the least. She knew how to fix that—she leaned in and kissed Elsa very softly on the lips. "It'll be good for you," Anna whispered against her mouth, pleased when Elsa shuddered. "I think I know what's best for you anyway."

"Do you?" Elsa answered, her breath hitching. She looked distracted.

"I'm your wife. It's my job."

Elsa's brows lifted at that pronouncement. "Where on earth did you get that idea?" She inquired, with faint amusement.

"Elsa, have you _seen _my parents? My mother bullies my father relentlessly and he just goes along with it, probably because the alternative is too horrifying to consider. And they seem to be happy as clams with this arrangement. It'll work for us, too, I'm sure," Anna said with that same hammy tone that made Elsa's lips twitch.

"I'm not sure I want our marriage to be compared to my in-laws'." Elsa frowned. "Wait, am I the man in this scenario of yours?"

"Well, you're not in a skirt," Anna said patiently. "You were pretty clear on that earlier if you'll recall."

Elsa reddened. "Well, I hadn't meant it that way—"

"Uh-huh." And because Elsa looked so adorably flustered, Anna leaned in for another long kiss. Now that they were well and truly alone with little chance of interruption, it seemed Elsa was more open to kisses and Anna had every intention of taking advantage of that. Or maybe she'd just softened Elsa up enough earlier and the queen was too addled to resist. Either way, Anna wasn't one to pass up opportunity.

After a minute of luxurious kissing that had Anna squirming in Elsa's lap again, Elsa broke away with a gasp. "Anna, wait. I think we need to talk."

Elsa could still think? Anna wondered dazedly. Maybe she was doing the whole kissing thing wrong because Anna was fairly certain her brain had vacated her skull several kisses ago. She blinked owlishly down at Elsa, wondering what was more important than kisses. "What about?"

"About—about consummating."

"I said you didn't, you hadn't even gotten up my skirt—"

"Not like that!"

Anna examined Elsa's serious, though very red, face, then sighed and leaned her forehead against Elsa's, their noses brushing. Whatever it was, Elsa clearly thought it was more important than kisses and Anna would have to gather her wits. She took a deep, marginally calming breath. "Okay. Not about skirts."

"No, not about them, though you seem to like to fixate on them," Elsa muttered. "We need to talk about the wedding night."

"What about it?"

"Anna, I'm not entirely sure what you're expecting for it. It's not...exactly like horses." She nearly choked on the "horses" part.

"Well, of course not, unless you happen to be a very cleverly disguised boy." Anna smiled. "It would explain the wardrobe choices you've made today."

Elsa glared at her. "No, I am certainly _not_. Please take this seriously."

"I am!" Anna sat back and looked at Elsa with attentive eyes, arms still loosely linked around her neck.

Elsa shut her eyes briefly. "Perhaps we should conduct this conversation with you in a chair."

"Why?"

_"Because rational thought is impossible when you are sitting on my lap_," Elsa growled like a poked bear.

"Well, this was your idea," Anna shot back, miffed at Elsa's tone. "Me in your lap, that is."

The queen stared at Anna incredulously. "I cannot believe I'm having this conversation."

"Neither can I, but here we are." But Anna climbed off Elsa with a tinge of regret and nearly tripped on a fallen chess piece on her way back to her armchair. The younger woman thought she heard stifled laughter from behind her and glared over her shoulder, but Elsa's placid face looked back with nary a hint of mirth.

"Your idea," Anna repeated pointedly, and plopped back in her seat, folding her arms petulantly like a child.

They glowered at each other like two boxers waiting for the bell to sound.

"We don't have to," Elsa finally said.

"Oh, _now _you change your mind about talking—"

"I meant we don't have to consummate the marriage," Elsa interrupted tightly.

Anna clamped her mouth shut.

"As you pointed out earlier, I am not a man. Consummation, in the strictest sense, is between a man and a woman for the purpose of progeny. The point is moot as it pertains to our marriage." Elsa's voice was detached and clinical, like she was reciting a script.

It was more rejection, every word of it, even the delivery. Only Elsa hadn't _really_ rejected Anna, exactly, which Anna realized only after enduring several moments of breathless hurt. So the younger woman forced herself to examine what Elsa wasn't saying. The queen was sitting there, looking deliciously mussed—tousled hair, rumpled shirt, swollen lips. And Anna had recently just crawled out of her lap—again. Elsa had enjoyed their kisses, that point was irrefutable, and she had liked having Anna pressed against her. And growing up with an older brother and many stable hands had taught Anna that the natural progression from kissing and groping in closets and dark corners was usually to trysts in stable stalls and unused bedrooms. Though, as Elsa had helpfully pointed out, the queen wasn't a man, but surely those feelings were similar in women—the need to, well, finish, as Anna had once overheard a groom say. She was certainly feeling quite...urgent.

And then Anna finally saw it. Elsa's breathing was slightly uneven, though she was trying to hide it, and her eyes were unfocused and a little glazed, aimed deliberately over Anna's shoulder. The realization made Anna's own breath catch. Elsa heard it and her eyes flicked to meet Anna's, then immediately cut away again.

"We don't need to consummate our marriage," Anna began slowly.

Elsa flinched.

"But I see no reason not to."

Elsa's eyes whipped back to Anna's. The blue in Elsa's eyes was so intense that Anna half-expected them to start glowing.

"No," Elsa said.

"Don't I get a say in the matter?" Anna said, starting to feel just a bit irritated with her new wife. Yes, 'wife.' She'd settled on 'wife' because no matter how she looked at Elsa, she was definitely a woman and 'husband' just felt strange on her tongue now, even if she had spent a few years expecting to get one.

"You don't know what you want," Elsa said curtly. It was so superior and patronizing, Anna nearly snatched up the hefty king piece off the board and hurled it at Elsa's head. It was almost as bad as when Kristoff did that to her and Anna had no qualms about exacting physical discipline on her big brother for being an insufferable prat.

"And what, you do?" And then it occurred to Anna that Elsa really might, with experience to back it up. "Wait, have you ever—you know!"

Elsa crossed her arms and scowled at Anna. "No, I do not know. What are you talking about?"

Oh, god, how obtuse could Elsa be? Was it on purpose? She was going to make Anna say it and, well, she actually knew quite a few ways to phrase it (courtesy of the Corona royal stables staff again), but the thought of bringing those kinds of words to this particular discussion seemed truly uncouth. She settled on the most socially acceptable one. "_Intimate relations_."

Elsa blinked at her, then went scarlet as the words sank in, her composure cracking. "What—no! I have—no! Anna, really,_ intimate rela_—no. No. Good grief," she said in a mortified, fragmented rush.

"Oh, well, good," Anna said, feeling awkward and relieved. "I haven't either," she added, because it only seemed fair.

Elsa looked away. "I know. That you... wouldn't have," she said softly.

"Well, then we're on even keel, aren't we? Neither of us have and we're married, Elsa, I know even if we don't need to, I want to—"

"Anna, I'm not sure if it's right for us to," Elsa cut her off, turning back to face her. She seemed to struggle with herself, then sighed. "I will be honest if you will."

"Of course." Which was all Anna wanted, really. This back and forth between she and Elsa was tiring and confusing.

"We haven't spoken to each other in four years. We've—we've changed, Anna. God, you were only thirteen when we were betrothed, and to another female, no less. It's so rarely done these days, for monarchs, I mean, that I don't really know what to expect," Elsa confessed. "There's just… so many things that have changed with the marriage."

"But Elsa, it hasn't changed all that much," Anna started, trying to sound reasonable and wondering what was prompting Elsa's sudden reluctance. "Both of us always expected to marry at some point, maybe not to each other, but someone. How is it any different with us than between a man and a woman? We'll still be living in Arendelle and I'll be the princess-consort instead of, well, I guess if you'd married a man, he'd be the prince-consort. I'm still afforded the same privileges, you're still queen."

"There are other differences, Anna." Elsa's expression went carefully blank. "We can't have children."

That fact was something Anna had known, of course. She knew it was a wife's duty to produce heirs, but, again, a moot point if Elsa was her spouse. It was just a little surprising to hear it said out loud.

"We'll adopt," Anna said, smiling faintly. "We'll have a half dozen heirs and I won't have to turn into the size of a cow nine months out of as many years to have them."

Elsa's expression didn't change. "A half dozen?" She inquired softly.

"The nursery is as big as the rest of the castle. We ought to fill it up." Anna smiled again. "I like kids. But that's for a bit farther down the road, right?" Her eyes went wide. "Because I don't want them, you know, _this very instant—_"

Elsa gave her a distant smile. "Yes. For later." There was a discordant note in there, so faint that it might have been mistaken as an issue with the listener's ears, but it was enough to have Anna studying her with a frown. Elsa revealed nothing; it was something Anna filed away for later because if Elsa wasn't going to tell her now during this impromptu candid talk, Anna would probably never get it out of her.

"Was that all of your most salient points, your majesty?" Anna asked imperiously. "I find myself unimpressed."

Elsa rolled her eyes. "Well, given that this is probably the first actual conversation we've had in years, I find that it speaks for itself, _your highness_." Elsa sneered a little bit. Anna even found that light touch of snobbery attractive. There was obviously something wrong with her.

"What, that we don't know each other anymore?"

"Among other things, but that is probably the most glaring, yes."

Anna smirked and leered at Elsa. She'd never leered at anyone before, so she hoped she didn't look stupid. "What better place to learn than in the bedroom?"

"Stop. Stop that right now," Elsa ordered. "That look would frighten small children, my god, wipe it off your face this instant."

Anna let out an indelicate snort and started laughing. "Would it really?" She tried it again and went cross-eyed on the attempt.

Elsa groaned amidst Anna's laughter and closed her eyes. "That is one way to put anyone off 'intimate relations,'" she muttered. "Well done."

"Oh, you liked it," Anna said. "Just like we were kids, right? Oh, see! We still know each other."

"As nice as it is that you're so eager to commence the consummation," Elsa started, ignoring the way Anna giggled at the alliteration. "There really is no rush. We have… all the time in the world."

There was that discordant note again, but Anna didn't pay it much mind this time. "So, you want to take it slow?"

Elsa nodded. "I don't see why not." She leaned forward and began to right the scattered chess pieces, her voice a study of collected calm. "The first time should be… memorable, shouldn't it?"

Anna started to help pick up the pieces, a grin dancing on her lips. "I'll never think of the library as boring and drafty again."

Elsa managed to not blush at that. "You know what I mean," she admonished. "What I am saying is that the circumstances warrant flexibility. There is nothing that we need to do, and there is no one that we need to answer to. It's a rare opportunity."

The younger woman's eyebrows lifted. "What you're saying sounds an awful lot like a courtship, Elsa. Only we've already reached the finish line and you're suggesting we start over."

Elsa appeared to ponder Anna's words, then smiled ruefully. "Yes, I suppose that's appropriate. We have four years to make up for."

"And you think we should do this while remaining… chaste?" Anna said, dubious.

"Not entirely," Elsa amended. "It can… lead to more. But maybe not on the very first day. Clearly we are… compatible," she said with a faint pink tinge in her cheeks. "But there's no harm in waiting, and we can ease into it rather than jumping in with no thought to, well, anything."

Elsa wanted them to be _chaste_. How on earth could they manage that when even innocuous contact could turn them into cats in heat? And did that include no kissing as well? Because if it did, Anna had objections to this courtship idea.

Anna opened her mouth to ask but Elsa added before she could start, "I don't want either of us to regret anything."

"Oh," Anna breathed out after a beat. Now she felt shallow for being so eager.

Elsa bent down to pick up a knight and set it on the board. Her long hair slid over her back and fell over her shoulder in a soft wave of platinum. "The stakes are a little higher than a courtship," Elsa continued, her naked hands arranging the chess pieces into neat rows. "A courtship is supposed to lead to marriage, but it is by no means binding. And as you already iterated, we have already crossed the finish line. I think… I think it's even more important that we try, at least, to do things in a way that we won't regret later. To do it properly, as it were. What do you think?"

As an argument, the logic was sound. Damn it, it made sense, even if Anna wanted to do more and Elsa clearly wanted to as well, but Elsa was obviously the only one who had a working brain between the two of them at the moment as Anna couldn't formulate any kind of counter argument without sounding like a child. Anna sighed in defeat.

"All right. We can take it slow."

Elsa sighed as well, but she looked relieved. "Good. I'm glad that—no, just… it's good. Slow is good." She paused. "That leads to the subject of accommodations."

"Accommodations?"

"Beds," Elsa clarified. She paused again. "We'll to need to sleep in separate ones if this is going to work."

Well, apparently slow didn't mean easy.

* * *

A/N: A surprise update! I had planned to post this on Valentine's Day, but a surprise snowstorm has me trapped at home with work and school closed, and I finished editing the chapter and couldn't really justify not putting it up. Also, wow, first chapter where I did not have to add any line breaks. As always, constructive criticism is welcome.

Also, forgot to mention, but the hand kissing Anna did to Elsa was very much inspired by some fanart of Anna basically making out with Elsa's hand. It's a longer strip and I've linked the artist's pixiv page on my profile for anyone interested.

PS-Chapter has now been beta'd and updated!


	8. Chapter 8

"Separate beds?" Anna exclaimed.

Elsa nodded. "If we're going to take it slow." Elsa also didn't quite trust Anna to keep up her end of the bargain, not when Anna was giving her a look that made Elsa want to cross her legs, even with the chess board between them. Elsa's naked hands unconsciously flexed on the chair arms, the material scraping on skin that was still warm from Anna. Elsa didn't even trust herself to not do more the instant they were on a flat surface with considerably fewer articles of clothing between them.

"Is that why you had the Queen's chambers prepared?"

Elsa shook her head. "No, that's customary and unrelated to this. You should have your own rooms." And that was mostly the truth, though Elsa had the chambers reopened also in case Anna wanted nothing to do with her, or at least in any kind of sexual way, which was now proving to be the exact opposite. Elsa might have been able to appreciate the irony if it weren't for what had just happened between her and her new wife.

Elsa had turned into an animal. There was no way to say it other than that she'd turned into a lust-driven beast that had tried to devour Anna. She had had no control at all. And that was not customary or normal.

And most of all, that could _not _be the person Anna had married. It had happened in the carriage and again just before the wedding party. Thankfully, those had been interrupted by circumstance and Elsa had been able to stop herself, but it'd been close. Very close.

She had never behaved that way before and it frightened her to have lost control so easily and repeatedly. And all in the space of a single day. Day-to-day stress and fatigue was one thing—accidentally frosting a fountain pen, dozing off over accounting books and waking to soggy parchment, even a small flurry of snowflakes if she happened to stumble and miss a step, but those were isolated incidents, things that happened intermittently over the course of weeks or months. The gloves didn't always help, but they were good enough most of the time.

The gloves reminded her to be careful, to be aware, and, most of all, to conceal. Even if her powers were mostly public knowledge, even if she really didn't have to hide it, she still didn't want attention drawn to her for it; it was not what she wanted to be known or remembered for. Her father had taught her to value merit and ability through hard work and dedication. And control, iron control, was the single most important thing Elsa had worked for all her life and it was exactly for the purpose of controlling her curse.

But when Anna was near her the gloves did nothing; her hard-earned control simply vanished like it was never there. God, when Anna had been kissing her and straddling her, and all Elsa could breathe in was Anna's scent and taste Anna on her lips, Elsa had turned into something else entirely.

She'd been _ready_ to exercise her right to Anna's body in the library. She would have done it—she would have dragged up Anna's dress and taken what was hers now by law. Yes, Anna had encouraged it with her stunt with Elsa's hand, but Elsa had responded so stronglyto it.

When Anna had pulled the cloth off the first finger, Elsa had gone stock still. Her entire armhad tingled. Elsa's hold on rational thought had begun to deteriorate by the third finger—she'd been overwhelmed by how _good _it'd felt, how it'd been _Anna_ doing that to her, and how focused Anna had been on Elsa. Elsa's knees had gone weak, but she still had to grip the chair arm with her free hand to keep herself from tearing both gloves off and lunging out of her armchair to grab Anna. She'd never felt such hunger before, like she'd subsisted on only bread and water for days and Anna was a treat dangled before her teasingly. Her entire body had shaken in ill-concealed relief when that glove was finally gone.

And when Anna had pressed her lips to Elsa's palm, it was as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Elsa had broken out into a sweat and had to bite back the moan that'd been building at the back of her throat.

At that moment, she would have done anything Anna wanted. _Anything_. If Anna had asked her to buy up the entire damned railroad industry in England—and with the stock prices as they currently were, that feat could very well bankrupt Arendelle and throw the rest of Europe's economy into a violent tizzy—Elsa would have signed the paperwork on the spot, ruined family legacy or not.

Elsa had been that out of her mind. It was terrifying that one person could have such an effect on her and she'd always known Anna could do that in an abstract sort of way, but knowing and experiencing were completely different things. And then Anna had kissed her knuckles and, _god_, the way Anna's hot breath had felt on the back of her hand… Elsa had had a fleeting, but intense, fantasy imagining that breath sliding down over her collarbone, lingering on a breast, then further down over her belly before her mind had promptly shut down in self defense. It'd been too much.

Instinct had taken over and when Elsa had finally been able to look at her wife again, Anna's lips were parted, her tongue flicking out to wet them, and her eyes sultry as she met Elsa's gaze. Then the words were out of Elsa's mouth, infused with command and pure need, spoken in a way Elsa had never uttered before. And the way Anna had responded, so eagerly and willingly… That alone would have destroyed her if she hadn't already been broken. Elsa just hadn't cared anymore.

Elsa had had no idea of how much she'd enjoy having her bare hand wrapped in Anna's hair, or how much she'd liked tilting Anna's head back to expose her throat. God, that slim neck, so delicate and vulnerable and tempting, that Elsa had simply pressed her mouth to Anna's throbbing pulse. Anna had been so warm and soft and Elsa had groaned at how much she wanted to _mark_ Anna. She'd wanted to bare her teeth and bite her wife where everyone could see it, and hard enough that Anna would have to cover it up. It had given her an illicit thrill to imagine Anna standing before a mirror the next day, examining the mark, touching it, knowing that it was Elsa who'd put it there.

Elsa had wanted so badly to savage Anna's neck—almost quivered with it— and had even traced the place where she wanted to do it with her tongue before Anna had shoved her back against the chair.

The queen would have fought her until Anna had risen up on her knees to hover above Elsa and draped her copper hair over her—and that was all it had takenfor Elsa to calm down, along with Anna's shaky request for her to stay still. Then Anna's hands were on her, undressing her—a ribbon and a cravat, just small trappings of civilization—but it'd felt like surrender.

And then Anna had been teasing and laughing at her and Elsa had never felt quite so happy before. Just like that, one instant an aroused animal and then the next… just happy. Though the arousal had not been forgotten, it'd been temporarily muted in the face of Anna's lighter mood.

The evening had taken a turn that Elsa had not been expecting at all. She hadn't expected Anna to end up in her lap again_._ Or that she wouldget teased so much, good god, Anna did take after her mother no matter what she said to the contrary. And she hadn't expected so many lovely kisses that had turned her mind into a sieve where thoughts simply flowed away and left behind nothing but raw, unfiltered sensation.

But things had been escalating so quickly, before Elsa could even _think_ about what the wedding night would mean. She'd largely avoided thinking about the physical aspect of their marriage—not that that had stopped impromptu daydreams and whatever other thoughts would creep up on her when her guard was down—that when she could grasp for some scrap of control, she'd managed to convince Anna to actually talk about that.

Elsa was cautious and no matter how much she wanted to, this was too important for them to blindly stumble into. And when she'd seen the way Anna looked at her so hungrily, she had to swallow and wonder if Anna was too caught up exploring newfound physical joys and savoring reciprocated desire for the first time**,** or if it was actually meant for Elsa. It'd just been so new for the both of them, their other encounters from the day notwithstanding.

She hadn't been able to bear the thought of any first sexual encounter being regretted just because they'd rushed into it like fumbling adolescents. At that point, Elsa knew that she'd have to be the responsible one, so she'd said, in the most honest, emotionless way she could, why they didn't need to consummate. Elsa hadn't wanted to influence Anna's decision by showing how much the queen wanted it.

Her heart had twisted painfully in her chest to see the hurt bloom over Anna's face. She'd nearly apologized, before she realized she would undermine her own words, and bitten her tongue hard enough to bleed. But then Anna had said she still wanted to consummate and Elsa had been at a loss for words and had decided Anna hadn't thought it through thoroughly enough because no matter how anyone looked at it, _Anna was willing to give up her virginity to someone she hadn't seen in four years and had only spent a single day with._ It was par for the course for other marriages amongst nobility, but Elsa hardly wanted that for _their _marriage.

Elsa had wanted both of them to be clear-headed and sure about it. And she'd brought up other points, just to make certain Anna had at least considered them.

She'd presented the most glaring deficiency of their union: children. And then Anna had surprised her with her response again—good god, Anna wanted a _half dozen of them_. She wanted to fill the nursery with children. Not that Elsa didn't want children, but… _a half dozen of them._ Good grief. And then she realized that Anna didn't know about the amendment to the marriage contract. Anna didn't know that she needn't settle for adoption.

Her father had not told her.

Elsa had felt something like despair settle over her at the realization. It would fall to Elsa to tell her own wife that she could… be elsewhere, if it were Anna's preference. But Elsa hadn't been able to say the words—her throat had lodged and her tongue turned to lead. _"For later,"_ had been all Elsa could manage, while in her mind, she'd been nearly hysterical. _Later, what? Later, Anna can have children? Later, Anna can find a suitable man? While trapped with you, too cowardly to tell her the truth? _Which was all painfully true. How the hell was she going to tell Anna? And upon deeper introspection, the clause could be seen as another trap as well; at the very least, Anna's firstborn would ultimately belong to the crown of Arendelle—afforded the privileges and protection, but never the freedom to be his or her own person. They could end up like Kristoff, chafing under royal duty and responsibility until they broke from the pressure, and then leavingunder the pretense of wanderlust. And that would break Anna's heart.

There were more reasons, such as if marriage had a deeper meaning for Anna. Anna would not be able to be open with a relationship with another if she was still married to Elsa. Or if she was, her social standing would suffer for it; not even the Arendelle name could prevent reputation smears.

Elsa's head had felt like it was about to burst from her thoughts. How had she not realized that Anna might not want her children to be subjected to royal responsibility? Granted, it had been Kristoff that had reminded Elsa of it and… god, Kristoff hadn't even been gone that long when she'd last been to Corona to amend the contract. She hadn't yet known then the real reason why Kristoff had left.

But within the swirling maelstrom, she knew one thing: they could not consummate. There were too many reasons against it and Elsa could hardly sort them all out with her mind exhausted as it had been. She needed time to think, to organize and figure out what was best. She couldn't tell Anna that, so she'd continued on with a notion of courtship. Courtship was, in fact, something Elsa had wanted, deeply. If their marriage had not been arranged, if Arendelle's future wasn't threatened, if they were just two people who were free to choose whomever… Elsa would have courted Anna properly. She would have _earned_ Anna's love and she would have known, then, that Anna wanted Elsa for her alone. That was the kind of union Elsa wanted—without heirs, duty, legacy, and an entire kingdom to stand between them. And done without regret.

And, most importantly, without consummation, annulment would then still be possible. If Anna wanted it, that door would still be open. But Elsa knew, she _knew_, that she would need to tell Anna of the amendment before consummation. Elsa couldn't decide it for her. The thought had filled her with more dread and killed any sexual desire rather effectively.

For the present time, Elsa had decided, separate rooms would be appropriate, so the servants could not dispute the lack of consummation just as well to prevent any actual consummation. And she'd have to limit their contact, especially kisses—Elsa could only endure so many tastes of heaven while anticipating purgatory at any moment; she was human, not stone.

"We should at least sleep in the same bed," Anna said, her demeanor annoyed.

Elsa blinked, drawn back to the present. "People involved in a courtship generally don't sleep in the same bed, Anna," she pointed out.

"Yes, well, people involved in a courtship usually aren't _married_ either," was Anna's peevish reply. "Just how far are we going to take this courtship idea of yours? We're already not going to consummate. I draw the line at anything else you can think of."

Elsa forced a small smile and hoped Anna didn't notice it. Her face felt rather numb at the moment, much like the rest of her. She could hardly feel the chess pieces that were in her hands. "You've already agreed to it, Anna."

"I said we'd take it slow, not be abstinent! I'm not going to molest you in your sleep, Elsa!" Anna squawked.

"Yes, and there won't be any consummating tonight, which you also agreed to," Elsa said gently. "It won't hurt to sleep in separate beds, then."

"I veto your courtship idea, then!"

Elsa felt a real smile spread. Anna looked adorable when she was red with indignation and, for a moment, Elsa was drawn away from her thoughts. "You can't veto me."

"Why the hell not?"

Elsa donned an arrogantly disdainful look that would probably drive Anna wild—she'd seen Kristoff employ a similar look to resounding success. Hopefully, it would distract Anna from the argument; Elsa was feeling rather out of sorts and didn't think she could manage fending off Anna's campaign against courtship, which was really more of a delaying tactic at the moment until Elsa could properly think again. "I am the queen and your liege, your highness. You cannot veto anything I say."

The expression and delivery achieved the intended effect. She watched in fascination as Anna's face turned scarlet, her eyes widen and her lips compress into a tight line. When Anna's eyes flicked down to the board, Elsa had just a moment of warning before Anna snatched up a knight and _launched it at her_.

Her reflexes were excellent, even if she spent most of her days behind a desk, so Elsa ducked just as the knight took flight. It sailed over Elsa's armchair like a tiny, but deadly, Pegasus.

Elsa's head rose back up cautiously and she stared at Anna. "You _threw _a chess piece at me!"

Anna jabbed a finger at her and did not look a whit apologetic. "You deserved it!"

She hadprovoked Anna deliberately, but even so, that piece was made of marble and would have been painful if it'd found its target. "You could have hurt me! Are you aware that I could put you to death for an attempt on my life?" Elsa demanded.

Anna rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. It wouldn't have _killed_ you. Maybe knock some sense into you. I threw it too high anyway." She smirked smugly at Elsa. "I just wanted to wipe that look off your face."

Well, Anna had succeeded. Elsa glared at her. "And you wonder why I don't want us in in the same bed!"

"That's because you're being stupidly stubborn!" Anna snapped back. "I'm your wife, Elsa! I'm not even going to have sex on my wedding night!"

Elsa quirked a brow. "Is that what this is about?"

Anna blushed and crossed her arms defensively. "You can hardly blame me. I had—I had _expectations_, okay? And you with your fancy words—"

"Fancy words—"

"Your _logic_," Anna said accusingly, like it was a character flaw. "I said I'd go along with it, all right? I'm just… a little disappointed."

God. Anna was destroying her all over again. Both guilt and longing pulled at her, but Elsa refused to budge. To busy herself, she rose to fetch the ejected knight. With her back to Anna, Elsa cradled the piece in her palm, her thumb sweeping along the elegantly carved head. A childhood habit to never take it—or maybe to save it? She was always looking out for Anna, in one way or another, always for what was best for her. This particular instance, the waiting and Anna's disappointment, was just another manifestation of that habit, Elsa decided. She was doing the right thing. It had to be right.

She returned the knight to its place on Anna's side of the board. Elsa laid her hand lightly on Anna's shoulder, her fingers tangling in silken copper. "It's been a long day," Elsa said gently. "Perhaps we should go rest."

"In separate beds." It was a statement, but Anna phrased it hopefully, as though Elsa might have changed her mind. Anna looked up to meet Elsa's eyes.

She shook her head and Anna pouted. "You'll have to keep up your end of the bargain," Elsa said. She hesitated, but leaned down and brushed her lips over the top of Anna's head. She hadn't done that in a very long time, but the gesture still felt familiar. Elsa took comfort in it. As she straightened, she felt Anna's hand slip around her wrist. Her arm tensed briefly before Elsa forced herself to relax and look down quizzically.

"Proper kisses," Anna told her. "If I'm going to agree to this, I want proper kisses."

Elsa opened her mouth to say _no, we shouldn't_, but the words died when Anna squeezed her wrist and averted her eyes.

"Please," Anna whispered, and there was a pleading note in there that buried itself in Elsa's chest and refused to be ignored. "I—I like our kisses."

Elsa swallowed. How could she say no? She'd told herself she'd limit that part of their physical contact, but it seemed unduly cruel when Anna was asking her not to. Elsa gave her a stilted smile and nodded once. "All right."

Relief flooded Anna's face. She gazed up at Elsa expectantly, a small smile on her lips. "Well?"

"What, right now?"

Anna pouted again. "Elsa, you might kiss well, but they're not so spectacular that you have to hoardthem like some greedy dragon with its gold."

Elsa blinked, taking a moment to process what had just come out of Anna's mouth. "Did you—did you just compare kisses to—"

Anna turned an amazing shade of scarlet again. "I'm not good with words like you!" She wailed, embarrassment turning her voice shrill. "Don't make fun of m—"

Elsa leaned down and interrupted the indignant tirade with a kiss, cupping the back of Anna's neck to hold her steady. When she pulled back, Anna was still pink, but looked distracted rather than embarrassed.

"Happy?" Elsa asked. She resisted pointing out that she had just passed up a very good opportunity to tease Anna. She also struggled to not grin stupidly at the fact that Anna thought she kissed well. Elsa was going daft, she was certain of it. It would explain why thinking and control was so hard today.

Anna gave her a wordless nod and Elsa helped her up off the chair. She caught sight of a white glove peeking out behind Anna's chair and bent down to pick it up. Elsa spotted its sibling close by and started to put them on when she stopped mid-motion.

With the gloves in hand, Elsa realized with a very strange sinking feeling that Anna may have ruined gloves for her. Not in the way that they wouldn't serve their purpose, but every time she thought about them or looked at them, she knew she'd forever feel Anna pinching at the tips of her fingers, the cloth sliding off in a manner that was far too decadent and, oh god, how was she ever going to put on gloves again? They would always remind her of Anna and Anna's lips on her hands and Elsa needed to put a halt to those thoughts immediately.

So, not only had Anna ruined Elsa for other people, Anna had also ruined Elsa's only instrument of control for her powers. Anna had made gloves _erotic_. No, they wouldn't even serve a purpose as gloves anymore because Elsa was certain people were not supposed to get aroused thinking about them. It was just another metaphor for Anna's effect on her and Elsa could do absolutely nothing about it. What was one supposed to do if they were on a sinking ship and discovered the only boat available had gaping holes? She glared at the gloves and stuffed her hands back into them; neither sinking nor swimming was an option.

"Elsa?" Anna came up behind her to look at her curiously. "What are you doing?"

Elsa shook her head. "Nothing," she muttered. "Just… we need to clean up. My cravat—"

Anna produced it. "I found it." Her eyes dropped to Elsa's collar and took on a playful gleam. "Shall I put it on you?"

Elsa simply held her hand out. "Maybe some other time," she said, her voice dry. "Now, if you would help me find our ribbons…"

Anna turned up Elsa's blue ribbon, but neither of them could find Anna's green one. After several minutes of futile searching, Elsa dragged a hand through her hair and sighed. "All right, it's late. I'll look for it again in the morning." She didn't want to entertain any ideas of what tales would be spun if a servant found it.

"I'll help, too," Anna said.

Elsa aimed an amused look at her. "Will you be up that early? I seem to remember that you never rose before noon."

"Elsa, I never get up that late!" Anna tucked a lock behind her ear and chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "What time do the servants get up?"

"About seven or so," Elsa answered, smirking when Anna made a disbelieving sound. "That's just when they rise, They don't start the daily cleaning until about eight. Most of the staff is on leave for tomorrow, though," Elsa added. "Wedding celebrations and all."

"Oh. Will they even come into the library?" Anna asked hopefully.

"Maybe, just to make sure some guest didn't wander in here that needs to be escorted out." Elsa smiled. "It's fine. I'll be here before the servants will."

Anna sighed in obvious relief. "Thank you. I'm glad you're still an early riser."

Elsa folded her coat and vest over an arm and turned to Anna. "Should I expect you at breakfast?"

Anna stifled a yawn. "I'll be there. Probably."

"You are allowed to sleep in, you know." Elsa smiled. "You're princess consort now."

"With you as my liege apparently," Anna retorted. They walked out of the library together and headed back to their rooms, shoulders brushing occasionally. "I'll have to be introduced to the staff soon, won't I?"

"Mm, yes," Elsa agreed. "Most recognize you, though there's been a few new ones, I'm sure." There were quite a few new cooks, anyway.

Anna was quiet for a moment. "Elsa, what exactly am I going to do?"

"Your duties, you mean?"

Anna nodded. "I mean, I've been preparing to get married, well, all my life. I know part of my duties as the wife would be to oversee the household and organize, well, anything that needed to be organized, but… Gerda's been doing that, hasn't she? And I'm sure she's already doing a better job than I could. You know how scatterbrained I am."

Elsa glanced down at Anna. She was chewing her lip in the way Elsa knew she always did when Anna was thinking deeply on something. "You don't have to do anything, really," Elsa said with a faint smile. "I haven't really involved myself in the household duties these past few years and the castle's not falling about our ears. But you can change anything you see fit. Only a portion of the castle is actually being used." Elsa hesitated. She wondered if this was the most appropriate time to say what she had in mind.

"Would you like to see what kind of work I'm involved in?" Elsa asked, holding her breath.

Anna started, turning a surprised look to Elsa. "You mean—you mean the business part?"

Elsa nodded. "Yes. The daily business affairs, as well as running Arendelle in general. It can be tedious, especially when it involves the fiscal reports—"

"You wouldn't mind?" Anna asked in a small voice. "If I could, well, just watch?"

The offer had meant a great deal to Anna, Elsa realized. It'd meant more than Elsa had thought it would, but Elsa could understand the feeling of just being included in something and not being left out.

"Of course. I wouldn't mind. Though if you're just watching, you'll just see me frowning a great deal and looking irritated," Elsa chuckled.

Anna only smiled and turned to face Elsa when they arrived at the door of the Queen's chambers. "You're pretty even when you look grumpy."

Elsa stilled. Anna thought she was pretty? The queen felt abruptly awkward standing there before Anna with Elsa's coat and vest over her arm. She wondered if Anna thought she was pretty, even when she was wearing men's clothes.

"Do you prefer it?" Elsa asked. "Me in masculine clothes, that is," she added when a confused look passed over Anna's face. Anna's answer suddenly seemed to matter a great deal and Elsa waited anxiously, trying to keep her hands still and not fiddling with her coat.

"Do you?" Anna asked with a small smile. "Do you like wearing masculine clothes, Elsa?"

Elsa couldn't quite meet Anna's gaze. What was wrong with her? "I… don't mind them," she finally said. "I could learn to like them, but I'm used to dresses. I suppose what I'm getting at is… would you prefer that I wear men's clothes more often?"

Anna's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, ah…shouldn't that be your decision? I admit, you do look very good in a suit, though." Anna glanced at Elsa's folded coat. "And lapels are wonderful things," she murmured absentmindedly.

The queen frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

Anna waved a hand. "Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself." Anna grinned. "I think you're appealing in both male and female clothes. But you're most definitely a woman, Elsa. I guess you'll have to accept that as an answer because your clothes should be your choice, shouldn't they?"

It felt like a weight had been lifted off Elsa's chest and she let out a surprised laugh. "Yes, I suppose so. I'll just surprise you, then, won't I?"

Anna hummed in affirmation. She looked up expectantly, her lips still quirked in a smile.

Elsa bent down and kissed her wife. _Her wife_. The words still felt warm inside her. Elsa didn't think she'd ever get tired of them. Anna hummed with pleasure, a hand coming up to grasp a handful of Elsa's shirt front to hold the queen in place. Their lips lingered sweetly together, with just a hint of heat. It felt like a promise and warmed Elsa to her toes. No, she would not think about the clause or the future, she thought stubbornly. The moment was theirs alone, and Elsa would enjoy it for exactly what it was.

"Good night," Elsa murmured once they parted.

Anna gave her a sidelong look that was clearly meant to be inviting, but Elsa only smiled and waited for the door to close after her. The queen brushed her hand over the panel fondly, then walked to her room. She had a feeling she would sleep well and, for once, didn't allow her worries to intrude.

* * *

The next morning, Elsa woke early enough to beat the servants to the library, as promised. The sky was just greying outside the window. The maids were aware of her early morning habits, so she rang for one and ordered a bath be drawn. Still remembering Anna's words, she found a full-length muslin blue dress and accompanying tailored jacket that was better suited for business meetings than dances. The jacket, which Elsa had worn before, was oddly reminiscent of her evening tailcoat now, though with a considerably shorter hemline, but she imagined Anna might enjoy the mix of masculine and feminine. Elsa liked the practicality of it.

"My choice," Elsa murmured to herself. It felt a little odd to have choices, especially after a year trying to arrange anything even tangentially related to Anna to her wife's preference, or what Elsa remembered of her preferences. After bathing and dressing, Elsa glared down at her gloves. The memory of Anna's ministrations hadn't dimmed in any way. At least she hadn't had a dream about it, so maybe she could be thankful for small mercies. She would just have to put up with it and hope she could learn to ignore the inappropriate memories. She left for the library.

The castle was quiet as a tomb with most of the staff gone and those remaining just starting to stir. She imagined the main ballroom was still something of a mess after the night's party, and would be slowly cleaned up as the staff returned.

The lighting in the library wasn't much better, especially with the sun just barely out. Elsa even lit a candle and searched, but could not find the ribbon.

Good lord, where could Anna have tossed it? It couldn't have landed far from the chess board. And of course, thinking of their chess game brought back more uncomfortable feelings. Elsa even dragged the board table away to look underneath and found nothing.

"Your majesty?"

Elsa's head slammed into the underside of the table. "Mother of god," the queen yelped, clutching the back of her wounded head.

Gerda was standing by an armchair and looking deeply amused. "I'm not that old, your majesty," she said.

Elsa shot the housekeeper a glare as she got to her feet, rubbing at the sore spot on her skull.

"Looking for something?" Gerda inquired. "I cannot imagine why you'd be crawling about on your knees in the library of all places the day after your wedding." A brow climbed. "And shouldn't you be in bed with your wife at this hour, your morning habits notwithstanding?"

Elsa ignored the question and prodded at her injury. It was probably going to bruise.

Gerda gave her a knowing look whose meaning Elsa did not want to contemplate. "What are you doing in the library?"

Goddamn it, Elsa was the queen and she still felt like she was half her current age and height and just caught doing something she wasn't supposed to when Gerda looked at her like that. "Obeying my wife's wishes," Elsa evaded. "And no, I do not need your help." It was clear dismissal.

Undeterred, the housekeeper pursed her lips, then reached into the pocket of her apron.

Elsa immediately wanted to sink through the floor.

A green ribbon dangled tauntingly from Gerda's hand. "So you weren't looking for this?" Gerda said with only the barest trace of humor. Like it would have mattered, Gerda might as well have been laughing up and down the halls and Elsa wouldn't have been any less mortified.

"For—Anna, that is—" Elsa stuttered.

"Yes, obeying your wife's wishes." Gerda was enjoying this far too much, Elsa thought helplessly, her face flaming. Had it been anyone else, Elsa would have been entirely composed and made up some flimsy excuse that would have had to be taken at face value by virtue of her station alone, but it was Gerda. The woman who'd watched her grow from the day she was born to the current ignominious moment.

"I was curious about what the princess consort's hair ribbon was doing underneath the chess board when I came by this morning," Gerda continued, a wicked smile on her face. "It certainly couldn't have been anything… inappropriate, could it?"

Elsa didn't answer—she truly did not trust herself to say anything that wouldn't engender more amusement at her expense. She simply snatched the ribbon away from Gerda's outstretched hand and stuffed it into a pocket. God. It was far too early for this. Why was Gerda even up? It felt like the universe was conspiring to make her life more difficult. Her formerly neat and ordered existence was being undermined by gloves and a lost ribbon. She didn't subscribe to the notion of karma and past lives, but perhaps it was a sign that she ought to start doing so. Clearly she'd done something horrible in a past life to deserve these humiliations. Maybe she could offer up gifts as penance and kindly request to be left alone.

"Not a word to anyone," Elsa growled, even though they both knew Gerda was the soul of employer discretion. There really could be no one better to find the evidence of a potentially embarrassing dalliance, but still.

Gerda aimed a placid look at her, folding her hands over her lap like some long-suffering saint—the picture of demure obedience, ruined by the way Gerda's lips trembled ever so slightly to hold back her laughter.

They were also both aware that Elsa looked patently foolish and deserved to be mocked, so Elsa gathered up the tattered remains of her dignity and retreated to her study, a metaphorical white flag trailing after her.

* * *

Anna was notably absent for breakfast an hour after Elsa's utter defeat at Gerda's hands, but King Frederick and Queen Alice were present. King Frederick looked somewhat half-asleep while Queen Alice was sipping at her tea.

"Good morning," Elsa said as she entered. Breakfast was being served in one of the smaller, more private dining rooms reserved for the immediate royal family. As Elsa went to the head of the table, her eyes touched upon King Frederick, who didn't notice her attention.

Elsa's jaw tightened.

She was going to have words with her new father-in-law regarding the marriage contract.

* * *

A/N: Constructive criticism is deeply appreciated. Emphasis on constructive.

We are finally beyond the wedding day! Thanks for everybody who hung in there with me. Thanks go out to my beta reader, Owncksd, for her work on this chapter (writing Elsa's perspective of what happened last chapter was kind of awful and also kind of awful to proofread as well with all those past tenses). Also, this is slightly revised copy of chapter 8 with some less italics.


	9. Chapter 9

"You look well rested," Queen Alice commented.

"No wedding jokes, please," Elsa said, anticipating a thinly veiled ribald jest from her mother-in-law. She was certainly not going to tell either of her in-laws that she and Anna had spent the night in separate rooms. Or even if they hadn't, Elsa still would have been tight-lipped about it. With Elsa's nod, footmen began to serve breakfast.

Frederick made vaguely pained sound. "Especially not about that, Alice," he said hoarsely. He looked like he was nursing a hangover and attempting to hide it.

Alice peered at her husband. "You look a bit peaky, dear," she said. Her tone was bland, but there was an undercurrent of… something. Whatever it was, it made Frederick blanch and reach for his cup of coffee.

Elsa frowned as she regarded Alice and Frederick. They were seated across from each other with Elsa at the head of the table. She had to shift her eyes back and forth to observe them and did exactly that in faint confusion.

"Did you overindulge last night?" Alice asked her husband.

Frederick swallowed his coffee in great gulps that likely scorched as it went down. "No more than anyone else," the king evaded. Frederick sounded… apprehensive, Elsa realized. What was going on? Elsa was by no means an expert on marital relations, but she'd never seen Frederick and Alice acting thus.

"Well, given how most of the guests left in some kind of inebriated state or another…" Alice continued in the same mild voice. "Shall I have a tonic made, dear?"

Frederick coughed as a footman refilled his cup with more steaming coffee. "No need," he croaked. "I'm just… weary. From the revelries." The king was saved from saying more when Anna came into the room in a hurried dash.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm late!" Anna said. A footman dodged out of her path as Anna went to her place to Elsa's right. Her wife was dressed appealingly in a form fitting ivory day dress of fine wool with light green trim around the waist and bodice. Her hair was tied back in the same way Elsa's had been during the party, the copper a flowing banner behind her. Elsa realized she was unconsciously smiling at Anna as the younger woman drew closer.

Instead of taking her seat by Elsa, however, Anna stopped at Elsa's elbow and leaned down in a single smooth motion, as though it was something they'd done daily. Elsa's eyes widened as she realized what Anna was doing.

Anna was going to kiss her right in front of her parents.

Soft lips pressed chastely against Elsa's own. Elsa could do nothing but hold very still—she did not quite trust herself to act in whatever way Anna expected her to. The queen could heat rising up her neck as well as Alice and Frederick's eyes on them. She didn't dare look their way.

Then Anna pulled back just slightly and leaned back in toward Elsa's ear.

"Play along," Anna whispered. The younger woman straightened and smiled at Elsa.

"Good morning," Anna said in an voice that was just a tad too bright. She was putting on a show and Elsa had just been conscripted to perform with her.

The queen cleared her throat discreetly and returned the greeting with a benign smile of her own.

"Good morning." She imagined Anna wanted them to look like besotted newlyweds. Elsa thought she ought to be convincing; the queen didn't have to feign it, though Anna looked a little deranged with her mouth smiling too wide like that. If that smile was supposed to look loving or however happy wives were supposed to smile, then Elsa hoped Anna had no aspirations for theater.

"You may want to sit, dear," Alice said. "The food's getting cold."

"Oh, right," Anna said. She skirted around Elsa's chair and allowed a footman to pull her chair back to seat her.

"Coffee?" Elsa asked, still avoiding looking at her in-laws.

Anna's nose wrinkled. "No, thank you. I don't know how you can drink yours black. Tea, please." A maid stationed by the serving bar approached with a teapot and poured. Anna stirred milk and sugar into her tea and sipped.

"You look lovely today," Elsa told her wife. The comment was sincere and not for show.

Anna smiled back and, after a surreptitious glance at her parents, returned, "You look very nice today, too." A gleam entered Anna's eye. "And in a dress. It suits you."

"Someone told me I look good in both feminine and masculine clothes," Elsa said lightly. "I wanted to diversify."

"I'm sure that someone would be pleased that you took their words to heart," Anna grinned. It was a genuine grin, and one that did not make people want to shift their eyes about for the nearest exit. Elsa smiled back because whenever Anna looked that happy, she couldn't help but mirror the sentiment. Then she realized they were both smiling stupidly at each other as plates laden with smoked salmon, cheese and eggs were being served.

Elsa turned to her food to distract herself. "Bread?"

Anna began to cut up her salmon and nodded. "Please."

Elsa passed the plate over and glanced at Frederick and Alice. Alice had turned her attention to her own plate and Frederick appeared to be trying not to gag over the scent of eggs. Neither were paying much mind to Elsa or Anna, so the queen said, very quietly, "How was your sleep?"

"Lonely," was Anna's immediate, equally subdued reply. Anna paused to look Elsa dead in the eye. "I would have slept better if a certain someone was there."

She should have expected an answer like that, but Elsa's hand still froze mid-motion for the briefest moment. Elsa considered the first response that came to her, which was to admonish Anna and retreat into propriety, and that was when she hit upon a moment of pure clarity—what did it matter? They were married. Anna was in good spirits and wanted to appear happy for her parents. And it was just idle, though somewhat inappropriate, conversation, which was also something Elsa had not engaged in in a long time with anyone aside from servants or subjects. She had often taken meals alone in her study unless there was some guest or other she had to entertain, which had been very rare.

Elsa decided she would humor Anna.

"There would not have been much sleeping, then, if you had company," Elsa said, her face guileless. "Unless you intended to rise after midday."

Anna stared at her, jaw unhinged. She had obviously not expected Elsa's verbal volley.

Elsa wanted to laugh and ate a forkful of egg instead. By then, Anna had recovered and was chewing on a bit of flatbread with a thoughtful expression.

"If I may," Anna started.

"Yes?"

The younger woman put down her flatbread and leaned her cheek into her palm, her attention rapt on Elsa. "I think I may be… uneducated in these matters. Perhaps you could describe what would have prevented an early rise from bed?"

It was Elsa's turn for her jaw to drop. She quickly glanced over at her in-laws again and saw neither Frederick nor Alice were paying them any attention at all; Frederick was gingerly eating a piece of salmon and Alice was engrossed in a newspaper. Their exchange so had far been conducted in hushed tones, but were they really going to do this? Over breakfast? And in the same room and seated at the same table as Anna's _parents_?

If Anna's smug, triumphant look was any indication, then yes, they were going to have an innuendo-laden conversation, and if Elsa did not respond, then Anna would be the de facto winner. And Elsa hadn't ever been able to turn down a challenge from Anna, her competitive nature stirring.

"Well, as you would know given your fondness for horseback riding, vigorous activity can cause one to oversleep," Elsa stated matter-of-factly, as though she was reading a passage from a book. "I'm sure that the matter of which you spoke of would need to be… very vigorous," she finished, voice lingering over the last phrase. She hoped it sounded as suggestive as she thought, even though Elsa had no experience in the kind of vigorous activity they were speaking of. And then that thought led to her wondering if Anna really would need that kind of… performance.

A faint blush settled over Anna's cheeks at her words. Anna's lids lowered and a pink tongue flicked out to wet her lips. Elsa stared at it in mute fascination.

"As you said, I do like riding," Anna replied slowly. "And I think I am very fit. It would have to be _exceptionally _vigorous for me to oversleep, don't you think?"

Elsa's hands tightened around her fork and knife as Anna's meaning sank in. They were flirting. Oh, god, they were _flirting_ with each other. Elsa had never flirted with anyone in her life. And more shockingly, she was finding the exercise inexplicably enjoyable.

"I would concur," Elsa finally managed. "But you seem to be expecting a partner of equal physical ability to… achieve the intended effect."

"Well, a skilled rider can wring quite a bit more spirit out of a fit mount," Anna smirked.

Oh, god. How was she supposed to respond to _that_? Elsa managed to control her blush, but just barely. "I might suggest more… open-mindedness. In that regard, that is." Elsa hoped, anyway.

"Oh?" Anna's smirk became wicked. "Please elaborate on this. Would it be a matter of skill, then?"

Elsa nearly groaned. What had she gotten herself into? They were heading into dangerous waters and Elsa wasn't sure if she wanted to steer them back to safety. Or if she even could—Anna seemed determined on continuing on their current trajectory.

"Perhaps experience as well?" Anna offered.

"One would presume," Elsa acceded. "I was brought up to believe that mastery can always be further honed by more… practice." But _how_? Elsa wondered. She was saying things and uncertain how true they were; she wondered if that sort of thing could be practiced, like with dancing.

They were entirely engrossed in each other and did not notice eyes watching them curiously.

"What do you think they're whispering about?" Alice asked her husband.

Frederick's headache had not improved with food and coffee. He'd also burned his mouth earlier on the coffee, so not only were his temples pounding, but he could not eat anything without wanting to whimper for mercy. The king glanced at his daughter and daughter-in-law.

Anna's lids were hooded and she was looking at Elsa with what appeared to be a secretive smile. It was not dissimilar to the expression Frederick had seen the previous evening when they'd danced together—somewhat dreamy and distracted, though there was a hint of playfulness, too. Elsa was more composed in comparison, but Frederick thought her attention was entirely focused on her wife to the point that he doubted Elsa would react if he called to her.

He didn't think anything was particularly amiss and shrugged. "They were just wed yesterday. Perhaps wedding jokes." Frederick was finding it difficult to use his brain at the moment, so that was the best he could do.

Newspaper rustled as Alice turned a page. "Perhaps. They do appear quite suited, don't you think? Even if they only just wed."

Frederick didn't think he could manage conversation, but he didn't want Alice to think he needed that accursed tonic either. "Very well. They'll be happy together."

"A good match," Alice agreed absentmindedly. "For both of them. I admit that I hadn't imagined it when Alexander had first offered, but now…" She glanced again at the pair in question. "Well, I cannot see them more suitably matched with anyone else, now." Alice pursed her lips. "I do wonder what had made Alexander suggest it, though."

Frederick looked at the two again, their heads bent together—red and blonde contrasting, but matched well, just as Alice had said. He'd been just as surprised, if not more, as his wife had been when his old friend had offered Elsa to Anna. Not that Elsa wasn't worthy of his daughter, it was just that, well, she was _female_. Frederick hadn't been able to countenance the idea and had initially turned the offer down, though it was probably more from surprise than anything else.

But Alexander had been exceptionally persuasive and forceful. He'd been so determined for Elsa to have Anna, pursuing the matter with such unflagging persistence that Frederick wasn't sure if he'd given in out of exasperation or if it'd been Alice who'd eventually brought him along to the idea.

Despite his earlier resistance, Frederick did not regret allowing the marriage. He knew Elsa would take care of Anna, and do so earnestly. Not like those fool lordlings who'd courted Anna so haphazardly, flouting the betrothal in the safety of sheer distance between the two kingdoms after Alexander's death, and acting under the belief that the engagement was some kind of lark, for what king would allow his daughter to wed another woman? Even if the other party was exceptional in every way, from lineage to wealth and reputation, the then-Princess Elsa was a _woman_. Had Elsa been a man the match would have made every kind of sense, and those hungry hounds wouldn't have dared even look at Anna in any way but excruciatingly proper.

Frederick could only be thankful that Elsa had never found out about the untoward attention, as much as he'd tried to discourage it, for Elsa was very much her father's daughter. Frederick could see shadows of Alexander in her and, most tellingly, his temper. It was a common trait in Arendelle rulers, probably to do with all the power their gold afforded them as well as the accompanying arrogance, but a terrifying thing to behold when given the chance to show itself. Those suitors who'd tried to court Anna and presumed Elsa would not react in the similar manner as her father because she was a woman would have been very wrong; Frederick knew Elsa would not have tolerated such an affront, no matter how youthful and untested she was.

Making an enemy of Arendelle meant annihilation in one form or another—most prayed that it was immediate, like a duel or challenge, because the long term kind could cast the pall of an entire house's ruin over the coming years, leaving its members to wonder when the guillotine would fall. Sometimes the threat of that alone was enough to have the offending member ostracized by his own family in an attempt to ward away chance of retaliation. Alexander would not have been above meting out that particular brand of vengeance. When he was alive, Alexander had been fiercely protective of his family and so very proud, like a golden lion. He'd been entirely unashamed that his heir would be a queen and not a king, and had taken measures to ensure that Elsa's claim to the throne would be undisputed.

While Alexander had never outright abused his power, previous Arendelle rulers had not possessed the same scruples—Frederick maintained to this day that it'd been Marina who'd tempered her husband before he'd been given the opportunity to… act less honorably than he should, no matter how deserving the offense. Though Alexander's restraint would have been especially tested when it involved unflattering words toward Elsa and her engagement to Anna—Frederick could not imagine how Alexander could have contained righteous fury unless stories of retribution had been kept from Frederick's ears.

Nonetheless, the betrothal had been fulfilled and Frederick would no longer have to contend with contemptible heiress hunters chasing his daughter about. It would be Elsa's duty to protect Anna now.

"I don't know, either," Frederick finally replied. "But I'm glad we allowed it."

* * *

At the moment, though, Elsa didn't feel like she was much of a match for Anna. Her wife was proving to be as adept at verbal fencing as she was at riding. Obviously Anna had more experience with this kind of sparring than Elsa, and Anna was not displaying any kind of leniency despite her disadvantage. And Anna had claimed she wasn't good with words only the night before—clearly a ruse to trick her into lowering her guard, Elsa imagined.

"I think the only way to confirm these assumptions would be to perform field experiments," Anna proclaimed.

"Do inform me how you intend to conduct these experiments with our current living arrangements," Elsa retorted.

Anna's smile turned coy. "Well, if I am remembering correctly, you'd simply go from the King's chambers, through the Queen's chambers—"

"More like the Queen's personal village. I may need a map to find you."

"You have your ancestors to thank for that. Or did you want me to find you?"

Elsa flushed. The thought of Anna coming to find her was far too alluring, so she decided against responding to it. "I'd probably die of exhaustion if I ever got lost in there," she said instead.

Anna laughed. "Is your form that poor, Elsa?"

Elsa rolled her eyes. "I ride desks, not destriers." Literal meaning aside, Elsa really did nothing that could even laughingly be called physical activity. If Anna's skill lay in the reins and bridle, then Elsa's was the pen and ledger.

Her wife grinned. "Arendelle's stables hardly has any war horses, unless you've made some new additions."

Well, now was a good a time as any to bring that up. "I have, actually."

Anna's expression lit with interest—the subject of horses always did. "Oh?"

"It's not quite up to the standard of Corona's, but the stables have been renovated. I've bought a few new horses as well." Elsa glanced away briefly, nerves suddenly overtaking her. "Consider it a wedding gift." It actually _was _a wedding gift, but Elsa didn't want to invoke obligatory gratefulness where it might not be deserved; forced nonchalance seemed best to resolve that issue.

Anna's lips parted in surprise. "Oh," she breathed. "How—how many did you buy?"

"About two dozen thoroughbreds. Arendelle doesn't really have an established presence in horses like Corona, but I thought you might like them for, well, breeding stock. Several have sired proven racers and I'm told there's quite a few who are excellent for, well, anything you wish to do." After several moments of silence, Elsa searched Anna's face anxiously. "Do you… not like that?"

"What? No, no, that's not it," Anna answered. She blinked rapidly. "Elsa," she finally said. "I know we're doing this courtship idea of yours, but I have to tell you that I really want to kiss you. Right now."

Elsa's eyes flicked to Frederick and Alice even as her body leapt in response to Anna's words. Anna liked it. Elsa had done something right and Anna liked it. "Your parents—"

"Then you'd best make your excuses if you don't want me to kiss you right in front of my parents," Anna warned, her eyes gleaming with purpose.

Elsa swallowed. Anna was serious. They had flirted, but it was her mention of horses as Anna's wedding gift that had pleased her. Elsa felt her mouth go dry at the way Anna was looking at her and she knew she needed to leave the room immediately because Anna would follow through with her threat, audience or not. And she imagined that kind of kiss would not be the polite kind from earlier.

The queen rose unsteadily. Frederick and Alice looked at her, then pointedly down at Elsa's half-finished plate. "I'll be…" Where was she supposed to be? She couldn't even remember if she had a schedule or meetings for the day. That hit to the head in the library earlier had addled her, Elsa decided. "In my study," she finally finished, albeit weakly. She didn't dare look at Anna, whose shoulders were quivering faintly with suppressed laughter.

Well, she was just a fount of entertainment today. Elsa wondered if she'd have any shred of dignity left by the end of it.

She retreated once again, her metaphorical white flag probably looking worse for wear.

* * *

Anna wanted to follow Elsa, but her parents were there and bolting after the queen didn't look good for anyone.

But they were _married_, came the thought. They were allowed to do… whatever they liked. _Within reason. _Anna wondered if Elsa had coined that stupid phrase and if she'd been inadvertently quoting the queen in her own thoughts. It sounded exactly like the kind of thing Elsa, sensible and logical Elsa, would say.

Except it hadn't been sensible and logical Elsa who'd just been _flirting_ with her, and over breakfast, no less. All those innuendos and repartees—Anna had positively delighted in them. Anna wasn't as skilled as some other ladies she was acquainted with in Corona, but interacting with Elsa seemed to coax out the witticisms like moths to flame.

In spite of what she'd said, though, Anna had actually slept well. The previous day had been exhausting and she'd slept deeply, which had in turn made her late for breakfast. Seeing Elsa seated with her platinum hair in her customary bun and that lovely blue dress and jacket had made her hasty flight to the dining room (Anna had gotten lost on the way down and had to hail a footman to direct her) worth it, though. It hadn't occurred to her until she'd already arrived that her parents, especially her mother, might expect certain… behaviors. And she didn't want them to pry, least of all about her own marriage. Planting a kiss on a remarkably obliging Elsa had also made that little show worth it.

And then Elsa had told her about the horses and the stables and Anna knew, even though Elsa had said it offhandedly, that it wasn't a small matter. Elsa had put a great deal of thought into it, even if Elsa couldn't tell a hackney from an Arabian; it was the gesture itself that had made Anna's breath catch. Anna had realized in that moment in spite of Elsa's insistence on distance, Elsa _cared_. The queen wanted Anna to be happy and had done things that she thought would make Anna happy.

Buying enough clothes to outfit every person between Arendelle and Corona, cleaning up the royal stables, and acquiring enough horses to start an entirely new breed… these were not things _friends_ did, no matter how confusing Elsa behaved. And Anna couldn't forget about all those kisses, even if she wanted to.

Whatever Elsa said, Anna knew beyond any kind of doubt that what Elsa felt wasn't platonic in any light. Elsa was hiding something from Anna for some reason—Anna couldn't fathom what was going on in that brain of hers, but Elsa had probably made it far more complicated than it actually was. And Anna was going to pry it out of her one way or another, the obstinate mule.

Fired by resolve, Anna stood with her chair scraping noisily behind her. A footman scrambled to help pull the chair back, but she was already up and looking down the table.

Her father winced at the clatter and her mother didn't even look surprised.

"I'm done," Anna said without preamble. Actually, she didn't even care if she'd waited an appropriate amount of time to go chasing after Elsa. Monarchs didn't have to answer to anyone as she'd so often reminded Elsa, who in turn also liked to remind Anna that the princess consort only answered to the queen.

"Shall we expect you for lunch, then?" Her mother asked.

Anna blinked. "I just had breakfast."

"Yes, but you have that look on your face that means I probably won't be seeing you for several hours," was the dry response.

Did she? Anna frowned. "Probably. Maybe." She thought of Elsa's stubbornness. "No, don't wait for us."

"Give Elsa our regards," her mother said blandly.

Anna nodded absently, already on her way out.

* * *

Elsa wasn't entirely sure what she was going actually do in her study, only that she'd said she would be there. She told herself she was not going there just in the off chance that Anna follow to carry out her promise.

"Your majesty." Kai approached as she came to the bottom of the stairs. "A message came for you." The butler had an envelope in hand.

"Oh?" Elsa took the envelope and studied the ornate script on the front. _Her Majesty, Queen Elsa, _it read. She hadn't expected any messages. "From?"

"I'm afraid the courier didn't say."

The handwriting was feminine and the stationary of high quality and heavy. As Elsa broke the unrecognizable wax seal on the back, her nose wrinkled when she caught a whiff of cloying rose-scented perfume—definitely from a woman. She glanced through the letter.

_For Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elsa—_

_Much felicitations again on your nuptials. I'm sure you'll recall my compliments to your wife. I do hope you also remember your offer for our engagement after the lovely ceremony. I certainly remember how attentive you were as we danced last night. I look forward to speaking with you again over our shared interests. _

_Peut-être pourrions nous faire connaissance? _

_Ever yours, _

_Charlotte, Comtesse de Artois_

Elsa's eyebrow twitched. Paper crinkled beneath her fingers. The _audacity _of that woman. She'd purposely worded everything in a flirtatious manner. And the last sentence had suggested that Elsa and the countess could be further acquainted, except the word she'd used, "_connaissance,_" literally meant acquaintance and euphemistically meant "mistress." Elsa's stance on social abstinence was only growing stronger if this was the kind of attention she would have to contend with. She wondered how her father had dealt with things like this.

"Kai!" Elsa barked. The butler hadn't budged since she'd started reading, but he still snapped to attention at her tone.

"Your majesty?"

"Send word to Holsen and Calhoun for a meeting tomorrow morning," Elsa growled, referring to the attorneys the royal family retained. "Set an appointment for ten o'clock." She glared down at the letter as though it was multi-legged and venomous. "Is that courier still here?"

Kai shook his head. "No, your majesty. He made no mentions of needing a reply."

So the countess hadn't expected a meeting today. Elsa stuffed the letter back into the envelope. "If another letter comes, inform me at once. And tell Holsen to gather anything he has on Artois and Collier Company. British railroads," Elsa added for context.

Kai's eyes widened. Like every servant at the party, he'd heard of what happened between the French countess and the queen. "Yes, right away, your majesty."

"And not a word to Anna," Elsa said. She didn't want Anna stopping her, and certainly not after the hurt the countess had inflicted on Anna during the party. Elsa wanted to set fire to the letter—it'd probably make a colorful flame with the liberal perfume application that'd gone into it, but she knew she ought to save it for the appointment with Holsen and Calhoun tomorrow. They would dig up whatever there was to find on the countess and then Elsa would _crush_ her into dust.

* * *

Anna got lost again trying to find Elsa's study. The castle apparently had multiple studies reserved for the current monarch and finding the one Elsa used required Kai's help. She'd happened to pass the butler while he was walking down the hall with uncharacteristic haste and he'd pointed her to where Elsa would likely be.

When Anna finally found Elsa's study, she gave a perfunctory knock and opened the door.

"Elsa?"

The study was surprisingly small unlike the rest of the castle, but handsomely appointed. A dark red Aubusson rug was spread out to cover most of the floor and a large gleaming mahogany desk sat on top with a pair of chairs before it. Bookshelves brimming with leather tomes lined the walls and sunlight poured in through the uncovered windows behind the desk. Two settees faced each other in an unoccupied corner with a low table between them. It was cozy—all gleaming wood and dark colors, quite masculine and business-like, in fact, but radiating warmth.

But Elsa was not present. Anna pouted. She was certain she'd correctly memorized the directions Kai had given her. Standing there would do no good, and the room did look like it was frequently used—Anna could see a neat stack of parchment on the desk and fresh firewood by the fireplace. It even looked recently dusted.

Curiosity got the better of her; Anna told herself that Elsa had promised she could watch the queen work and perhaps Elsa would not mind if she just looked around. Even though the study felt cozy, Anna still didn't quite feel that she belonged there. She was jumpy and nervous, as though someone might come in at any moment and shoo her away. Which was nonsense because Elsa had said she could at least _watch_. How could Anna watch without being in the same room?

With forced casualness that felt like she was trying to convince herself, Anna wandered to the bookshelves to examine its contents. Some of the titles were in English, but far more were in other languages, including Latin. And some didn't even have any titles at all, which was when Anna realized they weren't literature; they were ledgers. She'd just started to reach out to touch one when she heard approaching footsteps. And they were close, close enough that when Anna spun away guiltily, Elsa was already striding into the room, head bent over a piece of paper that looked suspiciously like a card in her gloved hand and muttering to herself.

"Going to find this—Anna?" Elsa stopped short in surprise. "Oh. Hello. I didn't know you were in here."

Anna shrugged awkwardly, her hands tucked behind her back as though Elsa might see red painted upon them. "I was, ah, looking for you. I finished breakfast and, um. Kai told me you'd be here."

"Oh. I was actually in my room—" Elsa cut herself off and walked to the desk. "I was just getting something." She opened a drawer, dropped whatever was in her hand in, and shut it. "I have a business appointment tomorrow. I was just… getting prepared for it."

"Oh." Elsa sounded unwilling to elaborate and Anna tried not to let that sting.

"It's just a meeting with my attorneys," Elsa added. She was watching Anna closely and had seen something despite Anna's attempt to conceal. "It's not for a matter of great importance." Elsa hesitated, and then sat down on one of the two chairs in front of her. She nudged the empty chair with a foot and motioned for Anna to sit. Anna obeyed and they faced each other as equals.

"Are you going to give me a lesson in business right now?" Anna asked with a small smile. The mood felt a little tense in spite of the fact that Elsa was sitting in front of her instead of at the position of power behind the desk.

Elsa folded her hands in her lap and appeared very serious. "No. Not this very instant." She regarded Anna intently. "Is that what you want? Lessons in business affairs?"

Anna exhaled. "I—I'm not sure," she admitted, surprised at her own honesty. She had not expected to talk about this when she'd walked into Elsa's study. "But I've spent most of my life being told that it's not my place to have anything to do with… important things."

"Who told you this?" Elsa asked after a long pause, her face inscrutable. Her voice was deceptively soft. Anna would later wonder how she could have missed it.

"No one in particular." Anna fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable. She was starting to feel foolish for talking about this, and especially with Elsa, of all people. She'd never said anything to anyone before, even when she and Elsa had seen more of each other when they were younger. And Anna wasn't even sure when these feelings had started to crop up; they just felt like they had always been there.

Elsa's gaze focused hard on Anna. Anna was suddenly struck at how much Elsa resembled Uncle Alexander at that moment; she had her mother's aristocratic face and beauty, but her father's expressions and mannerisms. It was discomfiting to watch Elsa's familiar face harden almost imperceptibly, her eyes turning into chipped ice, her jaw sharpening like a drawn blade.

God, Elsa was patently frightening at the moment, like she was ready to take someone's head off. Anna hoped it wasn't going to be hers—Anna had never seen her look that way before, except perhaps a bit like last night when she had been going on about the countess, but it hadn't been aimed at Anna then. It seemed like there were many sides to Elsa that Anna had never encountered before. The younger woman shifted uneasily in her seat under Elsa's eyes, feeling quite small and young.

"Are you sure no one has made you feel this way?" Elsa's voice was low again, but there was a rough note in it didn't elicit pleasant feelings at all; it was like the rasp of reptile scales sliding over rock, dangerous and foreboding. Her countenance and tone seemed to compel the truth out of Anna, forcing the words out of her in a clumsy jumble.

"I'm sure," Anna started. She wondered if this was what Elsa looked like when she was in the midst of business negotiations, those glaring eyes enforcing her will and demands. "It's just that, well, you know, I wouldn't be ruling anything when I came of age, not like you or Kristoff, and I'm only good for, you know, marrying—"

"That is not true," Elsa snapped, cutting her off.

Anna clamped her mouth shut immediately and stared down at her lap. The back of her neck and ears were burning, her hands clenched into fists on her knees. Her heart was beating an uneven tempo in her chest, quick and afraid. She could hear Elsa breathe in deeply, as though the queen was reaching for control.

"Anna, look at me."

Reluctantly, Anna raised her chin and looked warily.

"Your worth is not in who you marry," Elsa said, her face severe. "You are not—you are not _cattle_. You are more than just someone's wife."

"Am I, Elsa?" They were both surprised with her answer. Finding her courage, Anna pressed on. "I've always expected to marry. _We_ have always expected to marry. But you were taught to rule, while I was… I was…" She bit her lip.

Elsa scowled. "Say it."

"I was taught to be _ornamental_. To attract a husband and make entertaining conversation and be pretty and _useless_."

The words hung heavy between them, solid as a door.

"Do your parents know about this?" Elsa finally asked. Her jaw had relaxed somewhat and she didn't look so murderous anymore, to Anna's relief.

"Of course not, Elsa," Anna sighed. "I've never told anyone. And please don't tell them. It's my duty, just like any other daughter of nobility." She glanced at Elsa. "Except maybe you."

"I took the same etiquette lessons as you did."

"Yes, but no one expected you to work to attract a husband. Or be subservient to one." Anna actually hadn't considered if Elsa would be if she'd married a man, but the thought was absurd. Elsa being forced to answer to someone else, beholden to some faceless lord? Anna could not imagine it at notion was akin to politely petitioning an ominously smoking volcano to not flatten your village. Asking wouldn't be enough—something on the scale of fervent prayers, grand temples and human sacrifices, perhaps. And it'd probably still blow up, anyway.

Point being, Elsa had always been expected to rule as the single absolute power in Arendelle and not share it with anyone. Anna knew Uncle Alexander had groomed Elsa specifically to lead, so there'd never been any question of who would be in charge once he passed away.

"Is that what you think, Anna? That you are… subservient to me?" Elsa asked, quietly.

"You did say you were my liege," Anna said lightly, hoping to alleviate the tension. Or maybe hide behind humor. She wasn't sure.

"That was—I didn't mean it like that," Elsa muttered, her jaw tensing again. "I'm sorry."

"No, that was a joke, Elsa. Maybe a bad one, but I didn't mean it that way, either." Anna meant that sincerely. Elsa had never looked down on her, even when Anna sometimes felt the queen had every reason to.

Elsa fell silent again, brow knitted and lips a tight line. "Anna, what you said about what you were taught… It isn't untrue," she began. "I won't insult you by claiming otherwise. Most ladies are expected to marry into other noble families, and are reared exactly for that purpose. But don't ever think that you are nothing more than that. You are—I don't think you are that. We may have had different expectations when we were younger, but it's different now. You don't—you don't have to allow that to define you."

Anna shrugged half-heartedly. "I suppose. I mean, I've already achieved what I was raised to do, right?" That had come out more bitter than she'd intended.

Elsa flinched. "I didn't know you thought that way of marriage."

Anna started in surprise. "No! No, that's not—not what I meant. I'm glad that I married you, I am. I was referring to just being _groomed_ for it and not expecting to—to amount to anything more than that." She tried to smile and managed it, barely. It hurt to say the words out loud, to hear it in her own shaky voice, and to say it to Elsa, most of all. She'd forgotten how much she valued Elsa's opinion. Anna's eyes landed on her lap again; she didn't want to see Elsa's thoughts written on the queen's face.

At the top of her peripheral sight, the queen's hands clenched, then relaxed. One gloved hand crossed the gulf between them and settled over Anna's tightly clasped ones.

"Perhaps now isn't the best time to talk about… this," Elsa finished delicately, her voice soft. "I think I know a thing or two about expectations." _And amounting to enough_, was what Elsa didn't say, but they both knew. "And I think… I think we should revisit this, but at a more appropriate time. I'm sorry for my… reaction. I don't approve of anyone disparaging you, even if it's coming from you. You said earlier that you were looking for me," Elsa prompted.

God, she'd come in here wanting to kiss Elsa over horses and drag out whatever was on Elsa's mind, and they'd somehow ended up like this with Anna whining and Elsa offering her comfort like she was some lost puppy. She still couldn't make herself meet Elsa's eyes.

"Your silence has an exceptionally guilty air to it," Elsa remarked. "Should I expect Kai to come flying in here about another ruined suit of armor? And possibly involving a pony?"

That got her attention and had Anna's chin snapping up indignantly. "Elsa, you _promised_ you wouldn't bring that up again!"

She was expecting laughter, but Elsa was only smiling at her. Her expression had turned considerably softer and looked nothing like Uncle Alexander anymore; at the moment, Elsa looked much closer to Aunt Marina, sweet and kind.

"Admiring Joan of Arc to the point of emulation isn't anything to be ashamed of," Elsa said. "She was a remarkable figure." Well, sweet and kind and _teasing_.

"Ahh, Elsa, _stop it_," Anna hissed, cheeks heating. "That was a long time ago! Gerda nearly took the skin off my bottom for that stunt, right after Papa tanned it raw for her!" And a grievous offense it'd been for Gerda to have taken a hand to a then-nine year-old Anna.

"Well, at least you and Kristoff shared the blame," Elsa continued placidly. "I was punished as well, if you'll remember." Elsa paused for dramatic effect while Anna's face burned brighter. "It was quite the performance, especially the broomstick lances and barrel lid shields." Her tone oozed with irony

"It seemed like a good idea at the time, all right? In hindsight, it was stupid—"

"You nearly ran Kristoff through," Elsa interrupted.

"I know!" Anna cried. "It was an accident and I felt really bad about it, all right? But Kristoff thought it'd be fun, too! And you had _agreed_ to be the referee and herald!"

Elsa's brow did an impressive hike. "Your recollection of the event is flawed," she informed her wife. "I remember being locked in there with you and Kristoff precisely so I couldn't fetch someone to stop you two. I was an unwilling participant."

Anna honestly couldn't be sure if that'd been the case, but it did sound like something she and Kristoff would have done, so Anna didn't dispute her version. As a child, Elsa had acted long-suffering and stoically resigned to being dragged along on whatever adventures bored children could foment. Elsa hadn't always been like that, though; she'd only acted like, well, an adult when the ideas involved were exceptionally ill-advised.

Such as trying to reenact the Hundred Years' War as a jousting tourney with Anna as Joan of Arc to represent the French, and Kristoff as King Henry for the English. Two suits of armor had been sacrificed to give the makeshift tourney a more authentic air (to Elsa's protests, because those suits were partly the reason why her ancestors had lived long enough to make more Arendelles and allow Elsa to exist at all. Did those suits _really_ have to be used for such an inglorious purpose?). Elsa's points that Joan of Arc had never participated in a tourney, much less learned to tilt, had fallen on deaf ears.

By some miracle, Anna had managed to smuggle in a pair of ponies, but with only bridles and no saddles. They'd soon discovered that the breastplates were far heavier than they looked and both had needed Elsa to help them mount. Then Anna and Kristoff had spent a good five minutes yelling obscenities at each other they'd heard from the stable hands to imitate the historical animosity between the French and English, complete with accents, but that'd mostly been for the childish thrill of saying forbidden words. Elsa had been wide-eyed and aghast at the flying profanities until they'd made her fish out a handkerchief and wave it as a starting flag, as though they were competing for Elsa's favor.

The instant they'd kicked their mounts into motion, the oversized helms on their heads had begun to swing to and fro wildly. Elsa had told her afterward that she'd managed to bypass Kristoff's shield and nearly bayoneted him with her broomstick while the older princess had looked on in slack-jawed disbelief at the farce unfolding before her.

The real damage, though, was when she and Kristoff had unhorsed each other by accident and landed in separate bone-rattling piles on the floor. The noise had echoed loudly throughout the empty ballroom, and alerted probably every person in the castle. Luckily, the ponies hadn't trampled them in fright and they had gotten away with nothing but sore backs and bruises. They'd all gotten severely punished for the episode; she and Kristoff had obviously deserved it more, but Elsa had borne hers without complaint. To this day, Anna still felt guilty for getting her in trouble.

"Watching you fall off that pony scared a few years off my life," Elsa commented. "And probably everybody else, what with the noise you two made." She shook her head at the recollection.

Elsa didn't say it, but the breath had simply left her body at the sight of Anna landing so dangerously close to her pony's hooves; Anna could have _died_, or at least been seriously hurt. She could still remember the way her heart had simply stopped in her chest and everything had slowed to a near standstill in her panic. Elsa had nearly blasted the pony away with her powers, but couldn't out of fear that it'd only frighten the beast and endanger Anna. She had never experienced such intense terror and helplessness before. Her punishment was well-deserved for not considering the danger beforehand and, privately, Elsa still blamed herself for having allowed it to happen in the first place.

"Not every single idea I had as a child was brilliant, I know," Anna agreed regretfully.

"Do you feel better, though?" Elsa asked, smiling slightly.

Anna breathed out. The memory had distracted her and she did feel lighter. Anna gave her a wry smile. "You always seem to know how to take my mind off things."

"And I would say the sentiment is mutual," Elsa replied. Her hand lingered over Anna's, the touch light and warm. "Would you like to go riding today? Maybe inspect the new horses and see if they're up to your lofty standards?"

Anna released a surprised laugh, relieved. "Only if you go riding with me." And then she loosened her hands to twine them with Elsa's and felt very happy at that moment. This was the Elsa she remembered, though she knew that Elsa had been right the previous night—they _had_ changed. They weren't children anymore, but she wanted to know everything about the changed Elsa she'd married.

* * *

A/N: Thanks again to all the readers who've been following this story. This chapter is exceptionally fat at just under 7600 words, so my apologies if it felt interminably long; that's because it actually is interminably long. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

I'd like to thank Chibikrys for her help with the French from chapter 5 and this chapter to make it sound more natural. This chapter is also unbeta'd, but I wanted to get it out as I'd promised to have it posted by today. I will update it with a revised copy once it has been looked over.

For anyone wondering, "Peut-être pourrions nous faire connaissance?" literally means "Perhaps we can be acquainted?" but has a very suggestive connotation. I am not sure if I conveyed that well in this chapter, so I wanted to clear that up in case it wasn't.


	10. Chapter 10

"You'll have to change into riding breeches, by the way," Anna said matter-of-factly. "If we're going out for a proper ride, it won't be with sidesaddles."

"I thought you liked me in dresses." Elsa said with a smile. "And now you want me out of them."

Anna's lips curved. "I can help you get out of them," she murmured, her tone suggestive.

Elsa almost blushed. "Anna," she chided. The flirting from breakfast was coming back to mind. Well, it was better than thinking about what they'd just been speaking of.

_Ornamental. Useless. Unimportant. _

Even recounting those ugly words made her chest constrict with fury. It was an implacable anger, the kind that consumed reason and demanded immediate retribution. To hear Anna say such things about herself when she meant so much to Elsa… She'd never felt so impotent before, so utterly incapable of defending what she valued most. What good was she if what hurt Anna was something as intangible as family duty? Elsa could not change that.

It was benighted times they lived in when even a princess like Anna could feel stifled by her station and circumstance, Elsa thought sourly. Even more so when the sum of a woman's worth could be distilled down into how many male heirs she could birth and the value of her family's name. Elsa had been lucky that her father had treated her the same as he would have a son.

Dwelling on it, though, was not the best course of action at the moment. She would make good on her word to revisit the matter, however.

"We'll change in separate rooms," Elsa said firmly, forcing lightness into her voice. "I'll wear the breeches and wait outside your room, all right?"

Anna laughed, and Elsa was relieved that it sounded genuine. Anna's mind was off the earlier part of their conversation. "All right, all right. Oh, I told my mother to not expect us for lunch. How about a picnic as well? We can have lunch outside."

With a mild start and the last fragments of her anger retreating, Elsa realized that a picnic was another thing she hadn't done in a long time, along with riding. The suggestion wasn't objectionable, but all the cascading realizations regarding things she hadn't done in the past few years was rather distressing and not a little embarrassing. Elsa had hardly ever left the castle, always too preoccupied with work or some other pressing matter. And now she sounded boring and stodgy, like she wasn't a woman of twenty-one, but someone's eccentric spinster aunt who locked herself in her room and refused enjoyment of any kind.

They were married. _She_ was married. And she couldn't very well carry on as she had been—Anna would want her time and attention and, apparently, kisses as well…

Elsa wanted to give all of that to her.

She smiled and nodded. "A picnic sounds lovely. I'll have Gerda prepare something for us."

Anna grinned and shifted forward to sit on the edge of her chair to be closer to Elsa, her hands still holding the queen's. "The weather looked nice from my window this morning. And I did actually come in here for a reason, in case you were wondering."

"Oh? Well, we can talk about it during the ride, if you want." Elsa stood and helped Anna to her feet. "Your wardrobe should have something suitable for riding."

"You even had breeches made for me?" Anna asked with a skeptical turn of her brow.

"I am fairly certain you spent as much time in dresses as you did breeches when we were younger," Elsa said. "I presumed your preferences have not changed." Though the tailors had certainly given her strange looks when she'd requested men's riding clothes designed for a woman. An impassive gaze with a mild rejoinder that she was paying them to work, not to question, had solved that.

Anna took Elsa's hand in hers as they started out of the study. The gesture was done with such easy familiarity that Elsa's heart thrummed in pleasure, especially when Anna's arm pressed against hers. Perhaps not so familiar—as children, Elsa hadn't really felt the desire to kiss Anna so much. She had just enjoyed being with Anna then. And now Elsa was finding herself wanting to _show_ Anna how she felt. That urge was getting harder to control, lust-crazed animal that she evidently was.

At the same time, though, these feelings were so new. But Anna seemed to reciprocate them and even want to explore them with Elsa. _Field experiments_, Elsa remembered Anna call them from breakfast. God. Like they were scientists. Elsa hadn't ever wanted to partake in experiments so much before.

"Your assumption would be right," Anna said. Elsa's study was not far from their rooms, so their pace was unhurried. "Though my mother did wish I'd spent more time in dresses instead of being outside." Alice did not share her daughter and husband's enthusiasm for all things that had four legs and neighed.

Elsa glanced at Anna. She didn't think that comment was a reference to Anna's duty or expectations.

"Are you asking if I prefer you in masculine clothes?" She asked, carefully neutral.

Anna's head swiveled to stare at her in surprise. "What? No, that was just a… I don't know, a remark. I didn't mean anything by it." Anna blinked at her a few times and began to chew on her lip.

"Do _you_ prefer me in masculine clothes?" Anna asked tentatively after a long pause.

It was obvious the thought had never occurred to Anna; it hadn't occurred to Elsa either, but she still considered it for a moment. "I don't know," Elsa answered truthfully. "I think I'd like you in either dresses or breeches, though I admit that it'd be rather awkward if we both showed up to a ball in men's clothes—"

Anna let out a surprised laugh. "I have never attended a ball or party in men's clothes, so you can rest assured that _that_ will not happen," Anna chortled, tickled at the thought.

"No? What if I said I wanted you to go as a man?" Elsa challenged, tongue tucked firmly in cheek.

That thought had not occurred to Anna either, and it left her speechless. Anna's mouth opened and closed a few times, enough that Elsa wondered if she was actually trying to speak, but the words were refusing to come out. Elsa was deriving too much amusement at Anna's discomfiture and it was an heroic effort to hold it in.

"I—I suppose I'd do it," Anna stuttered, cheeks pinking. Anna's eyes had gone wide, like she couldn't believe what she was saying and had no choice but to continue. "I mean, it's only fair since you—you did it and…" She trailed off. Elsa was laughing too hard for her to finish.

"Elsa!" Anna exclaimed. "You're teasing me again!" She let go of Elsa's hand to whip her palm solidly against the queen's arm. Elsa continued to laugh while her wife glared at her, Anna's lips twitching unwillingly.

"I'm sorry," Elsa said once she had regained her composure.

"No, you're not," Anna said peevishly. "You enjoyed that too much to be. Really, me in a suit at a party," she shook her head like she was trying to rid herself of the image.

It was true—Elsa wasn't all that sorry, but she was for finding mirth at Anna's expense. "I'm sorry for laughing at you, then," Elsa amended. "But, as you said, it's only fair." She didn't need to point out that Anna had teased her a great deal last night as well.

"I suppose," she huffed. She smiled wryly. "I haven't seen you laugh like that in a long time, so I suppose some good came out of it."

Elsa's lips parted in surprise. Anna was right—she _hadn't _laughed like that in a long time. Actually, she hadn't laughed much at all lately, the prior day notwithstanding. Elsa shouldn't have been surprised that it would be Anna to who would return that part of her life after so many years. It probably came from Anna being her only friend, aside from Kristoff, for so long, but Anna could always just make Elsa… feel.

"I'd have done it." Anna was purposely looking straight ahead and not at the queen.

Elsa's eyebrows lifted at the admission. "Would you have?"

"If you really wanted me to. And it would only be fair, like I said." Anna looked askance at her. "You wouldn't show up dressed as a man, too, would you? Because that really _would _be strange."

A smile tugged at Elsa's lips. "As opposed to both of us in dresses?"

Anna blinked. "Well, when you put it that way…" Anna blew out a breath, but she was smiling, too. "I can't quite see us both dressed as men and dancing together, it's just so odd."

"And you can if we were in dresses?"

"It's still hard to imagine," Anna admitted. "But yes, I think I'd prefer one or both of us in a dress if we were at a party. Lovely as you look in a suit."

"I had no idea you were so vain," Elsa teased gently.

"I am not vain! I was just stating a preference!" Anna retorted, indignant.

They came to the King's chambers. "I'll be mindful of that, then," Elsa said with a slight smile. "I'll be sure to warn you if I've decided I'd like you in boots and pants and expect you at my door to escort me to the party on your arm."

She was awarded with an exaggerated eye roll. "Well, don't forget the breeches today, then. I'll be in them, too," Anna called over her shoulder as she walked off.

Elsa wondered if she actually would prefer Anna in pants, then shook her head at herself. The turn her thoughts were taking lately—it was just clothes and Elsa was hardly affected by capricious fashions. She went into her room to change.

* * *

Elsa arrived at Anna's door dressed in white buckskin breeches, knee-high black riding boots and a tailored black jacket. If Anna's comment on the weather was anything to go by, as well as Anna's preference for gallops to sedate walks, Elsa had dressed lightly. She would likely have to shed the jacket sometime during the course of their outing and had already sent word to Gerda to prepare some kind of packed lunch.

As Elsa waited, hands clothed in leather riding gloves and tucked under her elbows, she contemplated what kind of reaction Anna would have to the horses. Elsa's knowledge of horse quality was limited except from what she could remember Anna telling her, which was not much. To Elsa, horses all looked alike aside from obvious differences like color. And gender. And if it was alive or dead. And that impressively short list constituted the entirety of Elsa's equine expertise.

Elsa had tried to engage in Anna's interest for the animals years ago, but the effort had been fruitless. She just could not see the magic in them as Anna did. She found them necessary for travel, plowing what little farmland the kingdom possessed, and hauling heavy objects like carriages and wagons. They could also be contrary things—an old pony of Elsa's had found joy in trying to bite her for sport, though Anna had claimed that that habit was borne out of boredom—and they required a great deal of upkeep. Obviously there was more to them than that because Anna continually said so, but the queen was ignorant to whatever that was.

Still, if Anna cherished them, then Elsa would accommodate her. Though if Anna asked her to learn more about them, Elsa didn't think she could feign the interest convincingly.

Anna's door opened and she stepped out. Elsa's sight, which had been aimed somewhere near the bottom half of the door, was immediately filled by shapely thighs. Elsa was unprepared for it. Completely unprepared. It was rather like being ambushed.

Anna had flawless legs, was Elsa's very first coherent thought. Not that Elsa had a standard for comparison, but if she were asked to imagine perfect legs, she would have chosen Anna's. Her attention was completely arrested by the way those tan breeches hugged Anna's thighs. No, hugged was not adequate—Elsa was tempted to ask if a maid had stitched Anna into those breeches.

"Well?" Elsa distantly heard Anna ask. Her eyes were still on Anna's lower half, so she couldn't confirm if Anna had actually spoken. The query sounded like it may have been prompting for a comment, but Elsa couldn't tear her eyes away. Or speak. Or think. She simply stood there and worshipped those thighs with her gaze.

Elsa was certain she'd seen Anna's legs in breeches hundreds of times before, but never like this. Never like… like Anna wasn't wearing anything at all. She might as well not have been with her legs outlined so clearly, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination because it was all _there_. Freely available for viewing. Her brain had the gall to recollect at that moment how those thighs had straddled her the very night before.

Her hands were clenched and her collar was warm and her silence was stretching into abject rudeness. Elsa had to say something.

_I want to trace every inch of your thighs with my mouth and hands_.

Not that! _Especially _not that. Choking, cheeks flaming, Elsa yanked her chin up and fixed her eyes blindly on Anna's face. She would not speak to Anna's legs. That was very rude and she had excellent manners. Elsa thought she might be on the verge of hysterics.

"Nice," she said in a strangled voice. "You look very… nice." She had no idea what the rest of Anna looked like; Elsa didn't dare try to find out, but she imagined Anna did look very nice, so it wasn't a terrible lie.

Anna was attired in similar clothes as the queen—black riding boots, a simple white shirt and a burgundy jacket that complimented her hair. Anna had noticed that a great deal of her closet complimented her coloring and wondered just how much time Elsa had invested in her wardrobe choices aside from the cost. The tan buckskin breeches she found were a tad bit tight, but the leather was new and would stretch with use.

When Anna had emerged to find Elsa finely dressed with her pale hair still in a bun and looking beautiful as ever, she had been struck by a sudden bout of self-consciousness. Anna had never worn fine men's clothes back in Corona. Most of her clothes had been Kristoff's old castoffs, which had always been a bit too large, and she had never ridden in breeches with polite company in tow, such as Hans; it would have scandalized everybody within their social circle to see the princess dressed in her brother's old clothes.

Thus, nobody but her family and the castle staff even knew that she could ride horses astride, much less that Anna preferred it to sidesaddles. Well, them and Elsa, too. Anna had always ridden horses the way she wanted in front of Elsa.

As Anna had awkwardly stood there awaiting Elsa's judgment, hoping she did not look silly, Elsa had seemed incapable of looking at Anna in the face. The queen's eyes had not moved at all from where she'd been gazing when Anna had first opened the door and stepped out. And Elsa hadn't said anything for the longest, tensest stretch of time that Anna had ever had to endure, even when Anna could no longer stand it and broken the silence with an anxious "Well?"

At least that had made Elsa eventually look up, but Anna had doubted Elsa could actually see her. The queen's blue eyes had been unfocused and she'd also been blinking too much, like she was staring through fog.

"You look very nice," had been Elsa's stilted response.

Anna tried not to wilt at that. It sounded so stiff and canned, like it'd come from a reserve of platitudes for when truth did not warrant any socially acceptable reply. Then she noticed that Elsa's cheeks were pink and she was avoiding looking below Anna's neck. Anna had seen herself in the mirror. She didn't think she looked _that_ bad. Elsa was acting strange again.

Suspicion made Anna narrow her eyes. "Elsa, what color is my jacket?"

Elsa's eyes did not stray anywhere down. In fact, the queen seemed to aim her gaze even higher to somewhere above Anna's head, like she was addressing Anna's bedroom door. After a long pause, Elsa said, unconvincingly, "Red."

Anna wondered if she was guessing or hoping.

"Name the shade, please," Anna said, giving Elsa a skeptical look. She even folded her arms over her chest and tapped her foot.

"I have no idea," Elsa finally admitted. How on earth could Anna expect her to know? Granted, if Elsa did look then she would be able to name the shade since she'd picked it out herself, but she _couldn't_ look because Anna's thighs would edge closer into her sight and Elsa could already feel her eyes wanting to drag downward, like a compass needle. And clearly a broken one; compasses were supposed to point north, like she was currently trying to do.

"Because you don't know the color or you won't look?"

Anna was on to her and they both knew it.

"Elsa, it's all right if you think I don't look good in men's clothes. You don't have to lie to me." Anna paused. "Though I suppose if I'm so offensive to your eyes, you don't have to strain your neck looking up at the ceiling. I can go change into a riding habit, you know," she added sardonically.

God, it was just like before the party: Elsa had somehow made Anna think she found her hideous. She needed to stop it. "It's not that," Elsa forced out. "It's…" She made a vague gesture to Anna's knees. "Those breeches." There. She'd finally said it.

Anna looked down and could detect an odd stain or missing button anywhere. "What's wrong with them? Is the color off-putting or something?"

Elsa made the mistake of glancing at them to confirm if the color actually was an issue because she certainly hadn't been paying any attention to the hue earlier. Her eyes lingered over them again, her cheeks betraying her. "Too tight," Elsa yelped like a kicked dog. "They're too damned tight!"

Anna blinked, then comprehension settled in. Her lips curved into a pleased, wicked smile that made Elsa's spine tingle ominously. "I see," she said slowly. "The issue is that you like them too much, then."

_Yes_, Elsa wanted to expel, she did like them too much. It was unholy how much she liked them. Though, if she was honest, it was more that she liked what they showed, not the breeches themselves. She'd never seen Anna's legs, or any other woman's, like that before and the shock of it had bowled her over with the suddenness and violence of a horse's kick. But Elsa knew that it was really the fact that it was _Anna's_ legs that had her attention.

Her face burned brighter. It was mortifying, Anna's effect on her. Was this how teenage boys felt at the sight of a pretty girl? She suddenly sympathized with Kristoff if this was what he had to go through when he was growing up.

Anna took two steps toward Elsa. The sight of those legs in motion made Elsa want to shake. She could hear the buckskin leather stretching, pulling at the stitches to accommodate movement.

Elsa retreated two steps.

Anna was still smiling wickedly. She didn't look annoyed at Elsa's retreat. "Elsa," Anna called out softly, as though she was a skittish animal. "It's all right to admire me. Most people would be happy to be so attracted to their spouses."

She had nothing to say to that. No response came to mind, except for maybe, _you're too beautiful_. Elsa could take stock of the rest of Anna, though, and found her just as enticing in her riding clothes as a dress. Elsa had the sneaking suspicion that she'd find Anna lovely in anything she wore, which could probably include potato sacks.

"It… pleases me that you find me so irresistible." There was real humor in there now. The younger woman gave her a speculative look. "Though I do wonder how long you've felt this way."

Well, Elsa knew the answer to that. It'd started a year ago when she'd last been in Corona and had seen a woman walk outside instead of a girl. Of course, she could not tell Anna that because Anna hadn't known she was there. And that was just the physical attraction.

When Anna saw that Elsa was not going to tell her a word, she changed tactics. "These breeches are rather form-fitting. Where on earth did you get my measurements? The only fitting I went to was for my wedding dress."

Elsa exhaled. She could answer that much. "Your mother," she muttered. "I asked her for them."

Anna tilted her head, curious. "And had men's riding clothes made as well."

"Yes," Elsa affirmed. "I thought you might like your own instead of Kristoff's old ones."

Both of Anna's brows rose in surprise. Elsa had known that she'd never had her own. Anna had never complained of it—she'd never even minded that she got her brother's castoffs, worn and old as they had been. It wasn't as though anyone important was going to see her in them.

"So, it's your fault that these breeches are too tight."

Elsa's eyes whipped up to meet hers. "I gave those tailors the correct information," she said defensively.

"They're leather," Anna continued, as though Elsa hadn't spoken. "And they'll stretch."

The queen gave her a wary look. "You like them, then?"

"I do." Anna smirked. "Maybe not as much as you do, though."

Elsa reddened and glared at her, but did not reply.

"I feel that I should thank you properly," Anna said, and strode to Elsa. The queen jumped, startled, and immediately withdrew until her back hit the wall. Elsa swallowed, her eyes drinking in the sight of Anna's legs in motion. Riding would have made Anna's thighs strong and they did look very… fit. Like the rest of Anna. Which Elsa had not seen and, if she continued to have her way, she would not see. But the look on Anna's face begged to differ.

Her wife seized Elsa by the lapels. Elsa finally understood Anna's comment about them now, but the realization was fleeting as Anna's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Elsa, why do you always try to escape me when I want to thank you?" Anna smirked. "I think if I was a lesser woman, it'd hurt my feelings." And then Elsa was pulled down for a hard kiss. Elsa didn't have any fight in her—the splendor of Anna's legs had thoroughly destroyed all of it. And good god, Anna was bold, her tongue licking over Elsa's lower lip to demand entry, and then swept into her mouth when Elsa granted it. Elsa was drawn into a kiss that had her knees shaking and her hands grasping Anna's hips for support as much as the desire to touch. When Anna nipped at her lip, Elsa groaned, surprising both of them apart at the undercurrent of want in that desperate sound.

Anna looked at her, lips wet and eyes hot, breathing uneven. They simply gazed at each other. Then Anna's hands slid from the lapels, up her chest to cup either side of Elsa's throat, thumbs tracing her jaw. Elsa's breath hitched at the touch, her pulse pounding under Anna's palm.

"Come with me into my room," Anna whispered. Her meaning was unmistakable.

Her breath exploded out on an exhale. Elsa wanted to. She wanted very badly to go with Anna and… conduct field experiments. But they couldn't. She still hadn't spoken to Anna's father, still hadn't told Anna about the amended contract. And Anna saw it on her face, but at least she knew it was not from lack of interest. Anna kissed her again, softer, and it tasted achingly of her disappointment, but there was comfort in it as well—Anna understood somehow. She was allowing Elsa to deny them this and the queen was humbled for it.

"That was what I wanted to do earlier, when I came to your study," Anna murmured once they parted again, but her hands were still on Elsa. "For a lovely… breakfast. And the horses. Which you told me to 'consider' as a wedding gift."

Elsa had been caught—Anna knew. She wanted to fidget under Anna's eyes, face held between Anna's hands, in abashment.

"And you will tell me what's on your mind," Anna continued, voice firm. "Maybe not now, but soon, Elsa. I don't like it when things are kept from me."

Elsa closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping. Of course Anna would know that, too. Elsa evidently had the transparency of glass. She nodded her assent. "I will."

Anna finally withdrew her hands, resting them on Elsa's shoulders. Elsa was still holding her by the hips. Anna leaned into Elsa, stepping just a little closer between Elsa's boots, her mouth pressed to the queen's pulse. "It would be so good, you know," Anna whispered against her skin.

Elsa shuddered, her eyes sliding shut at the feel of Anna's warm breath washing over her throat. She was rooted in place, her body awash with heat. Her limbs refused to obey her. Anna's front was pressed to hers, her breasts, her hips, everything. Elsa could feel it all.

"We can't," Elsa managed to gasp. "You—you just said—"

"I know you won't… let us," Anna continued, her lips nuzzling the galloping beat in Elsa's neck and the same taut tendon that Elsa had tasted on Anna just last night. "Last night, you said we would be conducting a courtship. But courtship is about _persuasion_, isn't it?"

The queen almost whimpered. Her hands flexed around Anna's hips, palms rubbing against those breeches. She was wholly at Anna's mercy. The entire castle staff could have come charging in and she wouldn't have budged an inch. She could only stand there and suffer while Anna… did whatever she wanted. It was a good thing the wall was at her back because Elsa didn't think her legs were of any use at the moment.

"Almost like… polite seduction. Flowers, long walks, chaperoned rides." Anna buried her nose into Elsa's neck and found the pale skin there delightfully soft. She watched Elsa's throat bob as the queen swallowed. "It's so chaste. But only because nobody's married yet." Anna laughed softly, feeling powerful. Elsa was on the verge of breaking, but Anna was not cruel. She would concede this particular battle for the sake of the war.

Perhaps Elsa's chess lesson was sinking in—this _did _feel a bit like strategy. And knights were not all-powerful like queens, but they were wiley things with the way they could leap over defenses and entrap. She did like that analogy—it was so elegant for their situation, except Anna thought she could actually _win_ this time. Lovely as chess was for a metaphor, they were human, not game pieces.

And no matter what Elsa was up to, Anna was not going to allow Elsa to move them about like they were pawns and sacrifices for a passionless victory. She was not… _cattle_, as Elsa had put it. Anna was learning from Elsa, and if Elsa's words from their talk were to be believed, Anna was more than a pretty prize. She deserved respect. She was Elsa's _wife_, damn it, and she wanted to make it real. And Anna _knew_ she herself would not regret it.

Anna also wanted to understand what it was that was keeping Elsa holding her at arm's length, like she was some kind of unwanted vice that the queen kept shamefully returning to. It was obvious that both of them wanted to go further, and if Elsa truly wanted to take their relationship slowly, then fine, Anna could understand that, but there was more. There was something else that was making Elsa act this way and Anna had the distinct feeling that she needed to know what it was. She was determined to pry it out of Elsa.

And that determination to act and exercise her newfound knowledge had been started when she'd witnessed the expression of burning hunger on Elsa's face when the queen had looked upon her apparently fine legs. It had just been so gratifying to see such a look aimed at her after that talk in the study. And that had simply made her forget every feeling of superfluousness she'd ever harbored, like a cool balm on an inflamed wound. Anna knew, though, that physical desire was not the same, but it had still done wonders for her admittedly fragile ego. And Anna was planning on taking full advantage of that.

"And we are married and I can do this. I could kiss you just like this and a servant could show up and there'd be no scandal. Maybe a lot of gossip, though." Anna breathed in deeply, savoring Elsa's scent and her quivering silence.

She knew Elsa wasn't immune. No, in fact, Elsa was _too _aware of her. She was just stubborn, but Anna possessed a reserve of patience to call upon when the endeavor was worth it. She normally used it for training difficult horses, ones that'd rather see her head dashed into the ground than tolerate her presence within ten paces of them, but she thought it could be useful for persuading recalcitrant royalty. And Elsa certainly did not want to dash her head anywhere, so half the battle was won, wasn't it?

"So, I'm going to 'court' you, Elsa," Anna said with a confident smirk. "I'm going to… politely seduce you. And I'm going to do my best to drag you into bed, even if it means getting you there kicking and screaming, because we both know it would be _so good._" Her voice caressed those last two words like a silken promise. "And _neither _of us will regret it."

Elsa had never heard a threat sound so erotic in her life. She was also intensely aware of how painfully wet she was. It almost distracted her from the fact that Anna had just effectively issued an ultimatum to Elsa: get her affairs in order before Anna seduced her or Elsa's enforced abstinence would all be for nothing.

* * *

Somehow, they made it to the stables.

Elsa had no idea how Anna expected her to be capable of any kind of rational thought or activity after what had just happened outside Anna's room, but Elsa still followed her wife, aleit dazedly. Much like a horse on a lead—she simply had no choice but to walk.

Her wife was a force of nature, Elsa decided as Anna gazed up at the renovated stables in stark admiration. Elsa had never seen her like this, this determined focus. And the fact that it was aimed for the purpose of getting them into bed concerned Elsa deeply.

She was not going to win. She knew it well. Elsa could see an imminent rout on the horizon, the same way she could see it on a chessboard. Anna was thwarting all of her efforts. Elsa had intended to deploy a slow, delaying campaign the night before with the courtship idea, but Anna had thrown that back in her face and exploited her weakness with such surgical precision that even Elsa had to admire the cunning.

Anna had realized that she needn't do or agree to anything Elsa said.

Liege indeed, Elsa thought with a flash of irony. She'd shot herself in the foot. Anna had taken Elsa's words to heart in her study. Elsa ought to be regretting that Anna had learned so quickly with the way the day was going so far. And it wasn't even lunch yet.

Anna had forced her hand, laid siege and Elsa had no idea what to do next.

This was not how it was supposed to be. Things were spinning out of her control and Elsa could practically see her father shaking his head at her in her mind. She had never been able to beat him at chess, but she could occasionally force draws. That was the most one could do when victory was simply out of reach: not quite win, but not quite lose either. Her father would not have approved; victory was the only acceptable outcome. Fight for victory, even if it seems impossible, he had used to say to her.

Elsa breathed out and attempted to collect her wits. She would need to speak with Frederick first, perhaps even this evening. Then she could need to tell Anna about the amended contract, preferably before Anna broke through what little of her defenses that remained. And these events would need to occur very soon.

How had Elsa stopped Anna from having her way last night? Where in the hell had Elsa's _caution _gone?

Out of the corner of her eye, Elsa could see copper hair flutter and catch gently in the morning breeze, like an invading army's standard. Was that… a blue ribbon that Anna had used to secure her hair? Elsa squinted and confirmed that it was. Anna had kept Elsa's blue hair ribbon from last night and was using it. Elsa had forgotten that Anna had never given it back to her.

It was just as affecting, if not more, as seeing Anna under Elsa's coat. Anna was wearing something that was distinctly Elsa's and it did all sorts of things to the queen. Her belly flipped and her heart squeezed pleasantly. Anna could make her feel an entire host of emotions, and do so effortlessly. And then Elsa realized where all her sense had gone—her wife had ground it into dust while Elsa had looked on and had not been able to do a thing about it.

Anna gave Elsa a heated sidelong look that set her skin tingling. "The stables are beautiful," she said. "And I want to inspect the horses. Join me."

It was phrased like a request, but it was a command. Elsa's legs moved automatically, placing her next to Anna. The positioning was calculated; Elsa could at least manage that. She could not see Anna's thighs this way and further cripple herself for the rest of the day.

_It would be so good_.

Elsa didn't even know _how_ it would be good. But it would, she was certain of that solely because Anna had said it would be. The way her voice had purred those words out, how her tongue had rolled over each syllable luxuriously, infusing such decadence and sin into the sentence, like rich chocolate. It lingered in her senses, that promise—her mouth still tasted of Anna, her palms still burned from the feel of Anna's hips upon them, and she could still detect Anna's scent in her clothes. And, of course, she could still hear Anna's voice sliding over her, the sound as palpable as lips feathering over skin. As for sight, well, Elsa had been too busy with her eyes closed shut to block out the world. She knew very well what Anna looked like, and couldn't have seen her anyway since Anna had been busy tormenting Elsa's neck with happy abandon.

Elsa shook. She was amazed that she could even stand. She wanted to take off her jacket; she felt too warm, even in the mild weather.

She followed Anna into the stables, meek and mute. Elsa was the _queen_, the highest power in the land, and she was trailing her wife's heels like an obedient pet. Elsa couldn't find it in herself to even feel embarrassed.

* * *

The stables were immense. Each stall gleamed with newly varnished wood. The floors were freshly swept and the air smelled of fresh straw, horses and leather. Grooms were scattered throughout the interior, busy at work or leading horses about. A perfunctory glance told Anna there was enough room for at least thirty horses, including the two dozen Elsa had bought.

Anna breathed in the scent happily. It smelled just like the stables back home in Corona. Well, Arendelle was her new home now, and these stables were hers. She knew Elsa had absolutely no interest in horses—Elsa was more like Anna's female acquaintances in that way. If it was possible, Elsa would have preferred to have nothing to do with the animals, so the fact that she'd gone through the trouble to fix the place up and buy several fortunes' worth in horseflesh meant all the more to Anna.

She glanced at Elsa and had to fight to keep her smile off her face. Elsa was stone-faced, her eyes glazed over and her cheeks still faintly flushed. And if Elsa kept looking like that, she would terrify some unfortunate passing servant into thinking that that forbidding expression was meant for them.

Anna was tempted to kiss Elsa again and make her look a bit more friendly, but she didn't think Elsa would appreciate her doing so in front of onlookers. One groom next to a stall noticed them, turned back to work, then immediately whipped his head back to stare. His jaw dropped and he snapped to attention. "Your majesties!" He stuttered, bowing too deeply.

A ripple went through the building as other grooms realized that their mistresses were among them. With astonishing haste and order, every groom inside and out gathered before Anna and Elsa, the head groom at the front of the group. Anna did not recognize him from her previous visits and presumed he was newly hired.

He bowed the correct way. "Your majesty, your highness," he said. Anna knew by the way he addressed them that he had likely served in another noble house, possibly a royal one.

"Anna, this is the head groom, O'Brien," Elsa said, referring to the head groom by his surname. The queen looked more composed as she addressed the grooms, donning royal authority as easily as she did gloves, her eyes cool and focused. "He assisted in the horse purchases and oversees the stable operations. O'Brien, my wife, Anna. You will answer to her." There was a certain ringing finality in her tone that had every groom present standing up a bit straighter, including O'Brien.

While Elsa continued talking to the grooms, Anna decided to refer to that tone as Elsa's "obedience or obliteration" voice. The voice wasn't haughty, but it was very… compelling. Almost domineering. And she was finding some of Elsa's autocratic tendencies to be disturbingly attractive. She did enjoy watching Elsa command the small army of large men to do whatever Anna wished, no matter how arbitrary.

"Was there anything you wanted to add?" Elsa asked her.

"I think you covered everything, Elsa," Anna said, amused. Once Elsa had dismissed everybody but O'Brien, Anna said in a voice that only Elsa could hear, "I think they'd have given up their firstborn if you'd demanded it."

Elsa looked at her like Anna had actually demanded firstborns. "Why would I do that?"

Anna laughed. "Just the way you spoke to them. I've never seen so many men staring in wide-eyed terror at a woman."

Elsa frowned. "I spoke appropriately as I would anyone in my employ," she said. "I outlined my expectations of their behavior in your presence, who they will answer to, as well as—"

Anna smiled lazily at her. "I'm going to kiss you if you don't stop that right now."

Elsa immediately shut her mouth, the words cut off as effectively as a swung cleaver. She scowled at Anna, but it was ruined by her pink blush.

"I enjoy watching you order people about," Anna said. "You're a perfect tyrant and, god help me, I like it." She turned to the waiting O'Brien before Elsa could answer. "It's so nice to meet you, O'Brien. Could you give us a tour? I'd love to see the new horses."

Elsa allowed Anna to walk slightly ahead with O'Brien. She tuned most of the conversation out except for Anna's reactions, which seemed largely happy. Elsa breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. She had delegated the selections to O'Brien and was glad that Anna appeared to agree with his choices. His current salary certainly cost enough—Elsa had had to lure him away from a prestigious breeding stable with the promise of exorbitant pay and mostly free rein to do what he wished with the new horses, provided that Anna approved of them. If his reputation and expertise was to be trusted, then she didn't think O'Brien would clash with Anna, but she was prepared to find a new head groom if that was the case.

At the end of the tour, O'Brien took his leave and they were alone again. Elsa and Anna stood outside the stall of a fine-boned chestnut Arabian mare with white blazes on all four legs and a streak down the center of its head to its nose. Anna approached the animal with her characteristic ease and the mare responded to her soothing voice, bumping its head against Anna's chest.

"Well, hello there," Anna murmured, blowing softly into its nostrils. Elsa knew it was one of those things that Anna said would help a rider bond with a mount. The queen, on the other hand, had no inclination to put her hands or face anywhere near a horse's mouth.

"O'Brien didn't say much about this one," Anna said.

Elsa cleared her throat. "He didn't choose that one."

Anna smiled. No, she didn't think he had. The mare was exceptionally pretty, its red coat gleaming even inside without sunlight. O'Brien had a preference for larger horses, and this one was just a bit smaller than the others, nor the right breed that the head groom preferred. The mare had stood out to Anna like a burr among the stable of champions and fine pedigrees. Anna had known the instant she laid eyes on the Arabian that Elsa had chosen it.

"Tell me about her," Anna said.

"An Italian breeder brought her here about six months ago," Elsa began. "He owned a small stable and I believe he came wanting to find new stock here and had brought a few of his own to trade and sell. I was out in the city meeting with a diplomat and she caught my eye." That was the general gist of the story, with some details omitted. She had been out in the city at the time and had felt harried between unavoidable diplomatic meetings and numerous wedding details. As Elsa had been stepping out of her carriage, she'd glimpsed a brilliant flash that had stopped her heart. It'd been exactly the right shade of copper in the right light. Elsa had promptly forgotten her scheduled meeting to search the crowded square to find it, leaving her guards to scramble after her.

The Italian breeder had told her details about the mare, how well-suited its gait was to rocky hills, its sweet temperament and endurance, but that it already had a buyer who'd paid for it. Elsa had known the instant she'd seen it that she wanted it, and had practically bullied the man into selling it to her. She'd wanted it so badly that she hadn't quibbled over the extortionate price he'd named.

Elsa still wasn't sure what she'd do with the mare, but she was more than happy to leave it for Anna. O'Brien hadn't mentioned the mare to her, so Elsa assumed it was a sound horse.

"She's beautiful," Anna said with a smile, stroking the mare's neck.

"Well, she's yours," Elsa said, relieved that Anna approved of it. She didn't know what she'd have done if Anna didn't like it. "Do you want to take her for our ride?"

"I do, but I think you should take her," Anna said.

Elsa started. She had not expected that. "Me? No, she's meant for you."

"Oh, come on, Elsa," Anna said. "Look at her. She clearly loves you."

The queen glanced at the mare, which didn't look particularly lovestruck. "Horses don't like me. You know that." It was true; they really didn't and that was partly why Elsa avoided them. Most seemed to sense her powers, even when she had the ice under control, and shied away from her touch. Her old pony had largely been able to tolerate her, but just barely—hence the biting. It'd only gotten worse as she'd aged, probably because her powers also grew with her.

"If you're thinking about that old pony of yours, you know that thing was just cranky," Anna guessed correctly.

"You said it was bored."

"Mostly just cranky, though. I think he might have been a little sick," Anna said thoughtfully. "He did die a while ago, didn't he? Well, anyway, Uncle Alexander should have just gotten you a different pony. That one scarred you for life and I'm not going to let you miss out on riding just because of that."

Elsa sighed. Anna was trying to get her interested in horses and riding again. "You know very well that horses don't like me." _And I don't like them either_, was implied.

"This one does. Have you even ridden her?"

Elsa glanced at it again. The light wasn't right, so she didn't see copper. "No." She had watched it getting exercised from her study window, though. She had to stand and look down at an angle to see the stables from that window, but she still did it. Almost daily. It'd become something of a habit, like the chess knights.

"Elsa, have you ridden _at all_ the past few years?" Anna asked, disbelief coloring her voice.

"No. You know I don't particularly care for riding—"

"Elsa, you haven't ridden in _years!_" Anna was aghast. Not being around horses at least in some capacity was unthinkable to the princess consort. Surely Elsa couldn't have taken a carriage everywhere? "Just what _have_ you been doing these past years?"

A thick, tense silence dropped between them as Anna realized what she'd just said. Anna was instantly remorseful even as Elsa's posture stiffened, her eyes going cool and blank, withdrawing as though the queen had just been slapped.

"Not much," Elsa answered, her voice just as stiff as her body. "Forgive me, but I am somewhat out of practice." _Which you just graciously noted_. Anna heard the hurt message underneath and it twisted in her chest; she felt like a clumsy clod. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of your morning ride just for that. I shall call for an escort for you."

Then Elsa gave her a brittle bow and turned to walk away.

Anna grabbed for Elsa's arm to stop her and got a handful of her sleeve. "Elsa, wait, please." God, why had she said that? It'd been so thoughtlessly hurtful and rude. She couldn't blame Elsa for wanting to desert her. Who _said_ that?

Well, apparently, she did. She'd just been surprised, but that was no excuse. And now she was staring at Elsa's painfully straight back. Elsa wasn't even looking at her, her eyes deliberately aimed away.

"Elsa, I'm sorry. I didn't—I didn't mean it that way." Which begged the question, didn't it, of what way she had meant it. She really didn't know what Elsa had been doing the past few years, aside from buying wedding gifts and overseeing Arendelle. They had stopped exchanging letters after Elsa's parents had died. _Her parents_. Anna winced and wanted to close her eyes in mortification—guilt had her in a chokehold.

"Please don't go, Elsa," Anna pleaded when Elsa didn't respond. "I'm really sorry. That was—that was really horrible. And hurtful. I know you're mad at me, but I—I really want to spend the day with you. We don't have to go riding, we can do whatever you want—"

"Anna." Elsa finally turned and the look on her face had Anna turning her face down to Elsa's boots.

Elsa exhaled. The unexpected barb Anna had accidentally thrown at her still smarted, but it was fading after Anna's apology. She hadn't thought that sort of thing could really hurt her anymore, but it had been startling to have it leveled at her as an accusation from Anna. And it had only been a slip, which Elsa couldn't decide was good or not. A slip indicated truth, not calculated hurt.

What Anna had unearthed was true, though. Elsa hadn't done much at all lately. She just hadn't expected to feel… _ashamed_ of it. Her pride had sustained a dent, but it would survive, Elsa decided. She would be an adult about this.

"I'll go riding with if you take Roma," Elsa said, indicating the chestnut Arabian. "I did not name her that," Elsa added when Anna looked up. "The Italian breeder said she responded to that name and I—"

Elsa was interrupted when Anna wrapped her arms around her waist and drew her into an embrace.

"I really am sorry I said that," Anna said against Elsa's shoulder. "I just… sometimes forget to shut my mouth and stupid things come out of it when that happens."

If Elsa hadn't already forgiven Anna for it, she would have now for that. Carefully, she returned the hug and leaned her cheek against Anna's hair. The smell of horses and Anna, forever entwined in Elsa's mind and, when she glanced down, her blue ribbon woven through copper—all of it brought immeasurable peace.

How could she let this go? Just the thought of it made her hold Anna tighter. The more time she spent with Anna, the less certain she was that she was making the right choices. Doubt was something that could hamstring anyone and Elsa found herself wishing fiercely to have known what her father's intent had been behind the betrothal.

She'd made an oath to protect the kingdom, but she'd also made a vow to Anna. Everything he'd taught her was for the throne, but marrying Anna went against all of that. Even if a ruler was completely incompetent, the single most important duty was to leave an heir to protect the realm and to further the family line. Rather like the role Anna had been raised to take on. They were more alike than either of them realized. Elsa wished he was alive so could have asked him why he was making her choose between Arendelle and Anna. She didn't think she was equipped to make the right choice anymore.

"You'll have to pick out a horse for me," Elsa said after they stepped apart. "I would prefer one that does not want to constantly test its teeth on me."

Anna laughed. "All right, I'll find a sweet, placid horse for you."

As Anna went to find a mount with Elsa trailing her, Elsa wondered if it was possible to not have to choose at all.

* * *

A/N: These chapters are expanding! This one was even longer than last, at 8500 words. I am not as satisfied with this chapter as I was with chapter nine, so feel free to air any issues you find with it; as always constructive criticism is appreciated. I also had considered moving the scene in the stables to the next chapter, but with the pacing, I decided I ought to try to put more into each chapter to allow in-story time to progress at a decent clip. Anyway, thanks for all the readers! And especially ones who've left me feedback, I enjoy reading all of them. I think that's kind of implied, but I want to thank you guys every chapter anyway.

Also, I have written a one-shot for the childhood tourney that was referenced last chapter. It is posted on as well as AO3, so just go through my profile to look for _An Informal Tourney_. You do not need to read it to follow AFA, it's just a side story.

PS- I am also looking for a beta reader for help with grammar, syntax, diction, etc. Feel free to PM me or look me through tumblr (link is in my profile) if you are interested!


	11. Chapter 11

Elsa doubted the newly stocked stables possessed a saintly steed that could tolerate her. Even if there were more of the beasts now, all of them were expensive and weren't the expensive ones usually high-strung? Not that Elsa would know, but she was proven wrong when Anna found an inky black stallion that did not glare at her in suspicion.

"Come on, he's not going to bite!" Anna said. "You do have to, you know, touch the horse if you're going to ride it."

"Why? It's trained to go and stop when I say so. Unless this is one of the ill-mannered ones you like to rehabilitate."

"Elsa! You can't treat horses like they're your subjects!" This was a recurring issue with Elsa, probably because of her autocratic tendencies that Anna found so attractive, though her feelings on that were currently edging into exasperation. Elsa seemed to expect everything to obey her if she glared at it enough, which could probably include the weather and what direction the sun rose. Anna had half a mind to believe that Elsa could very well make the sun rise in the north if it suited her purposes enough.

"Then I suppose I will have to present myself for his grace's approval?"

"His name is Hector," Anna said, undaunted. "He's not a duke, he is your horse and he's well-trained. Let him smell you. He's the one who's going to carry you around and a good rapport would be best."

Elsa sighed and thrust her hand unceremoniously under the horse's nose. Hector's ears flicked back, possibly at the sudden movement or in offense at the cavalier treatment. "You want me to have a good rapport with a horse named after a Greek hero."

"He's sired four champions," Anna defended. "And he's only four years old!"

"A prodigious achievement. One for each year it's been alive," Elsa answered with a faint sneer. "I shall rest easy knowing my investment will produce a champion return per annum. And is it done sniffing me? I grow anxious with my writing hand so close to its teeth."

Anna nearly sighed again. Elsa was just nervous and testy, she told herself. And when Elsa was nervous and testy, she could be difficult and sarcastic. Anna reached deep within herself for her reservoir of patience, which appeared to have sprung a leak.

"His name is Hector," she repeated. "Not 'it.' He does respond to his name. Riding would be a better experience for _both_ parties if the rider didn't look at her horse like he will bite her."

"Forgive me if prior experiences have colored present expectations," Elsa returned, lip still curled.

Anna rolled her eyes and seized Elsa's wrist, pulling her closer to Hector. "It is okay to _pet_ him," she said. "Just stroke his cheek. Yes, like that. See? He's a good boy."

Elsa's eyebrow twitched. A good boy. Like it was an overgrown dog. That wasn't far from the truth in actuality; Anna loved horses and horses loved her back. Even the ones that didn't initially, all horses eventually adored Anna and responded enthusiastically to whatever she asked, be it jumping over very high shrubs to galloping ever faster. Elsa supposed she could understand the sentiment, though she would not be jumping over bushes or galloping anywhere no matter how nicely Anna asked.

Elsa eyed Hector. The horse didn't appear to mind her touch, but was watching her just as warily. A nod from Anna had Elsa lifting her hand away to rub Hector's broad neck. She was surprised at how solid the beast felt. The short bristly hair scraped against her riding glove, but it was almost… nice. He also felt quite warm. She was still prepared to retreat in case he found her alluring enough to avail himself for a taste of her hand, though.

"See? He's a good boy. Very easy-tempered." Anna would have suggested for Elsa to blow into Hector's nose, but she thought that might have been pushing it. For later, Anna decided, she could get Elsa to bond more with Hector, though she thought Roma was better suited for the queen. Anna could see a calm temperament in the mare that would put Elsa at ease, or at least as much at ease as Elsa could be around horses. Anna sincerely wished Uncle Alexander would have just given Elsa a different pony when Elsa was younger so they wouldn't have to deal with Elsa's aversion to horses now.

"He seems to like me well enough," Elsa allowed. "Ah, I think I see Gerda with our lunch."

They both turned to watch the housekeeper walk in quick strides across the courtyard with a large satchel in her arms.

"It's just lunch," Anna said, her eyes wide. "Not an expedition."

Elsa hid a smile as Gerda approached them.

"I hope you were not waiting long," Gerda said, slightly out of breath. A groom stepped forward to take the satchel and, with Elsa's nod, secured it to the back of Hector's saddle.

"Were you expecting us to not return for a week?" Elsa said. "Did you pack a tent as well?"

"Your majesty had not specified what to pack, so I've put in an assortment," Gerda said, giving Elsa a narrow-eyed look that promised unsubtle retribution. Elsa raised her brows in challenge. She had not forgotten their encounter from the library earlier that morning, and was eager to redeem herself.

"Actually, camping wouldn't be a bad idea," Anna commented.

Elsa and Gerda both swiveled their heads to stare at her. "What?" Anna exclaimed. "Kristoff and I used to do it all the time back in Corona! It's fun!"

"Corona is considerably warmer than Arendelle," Elsa said. "And if you'd like to get away from the castle occasionally, there are a few hunting boxes in the forest. With fireplaces and beds."

Anna rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, where's the fun in that? You'd be fine, Elsa. I'd be the only one who'd have to worry about the cold." Which was exactly why Elsa was adverse to the idea, and not just the general inconvenience of it. Camping? Why would anyone willingly consent to sleep on the ground when the alternative was available?

"Perhaps this is another matter we'll revisit," Elsa answered diplomatically, not wanting to argue before Gerda. While Anna rolled her eyes again, Elsa turned back to Gerda. "I'm not sure when we'll be back, but you can expect us for dinner." Her voice dropped so Anna could not hear. "Will my father-in-law be in attendance?"

Gerda frowned slightly, but she understood enough to know when Elsa was speaking of something important. "He has not indicated otherwise. I believe both the king and queen of Corona will be present."

Relief and dread filled her, but Elsa did not allow her expression to change. She gave Gerda a tight nod. "Please ensure, to the best of your ability, that his plans do not change. I want no other guests present either." Once Gerda nodded acknowledgement, Elsa returned to grasp Hector's reins.

"We should leave now," Elsa said to Anna. "We can leave through a side gate to bypass the city. If I remember correctly, there's a trail that cuts through a part of the forest and leads into some fairly flat fields along the fjord."

Anna mounted gracefully on Roma. "I don't think I've been down that path, but if you know the way, I'll follow."

Which was a very good idea since that would mean Elsa could not see Anna's legs. Then Elsa looked at the ground to Hector's saddle and wondered if she could manage to mount at all. It had been a very long time since she'd last done this. She hoped Hector's magnanimity extended until she could get on his back—she prefered to at least be mounted before she humiliated herself. Grasping the saddle pommel in one hand and the seat with the other, Elsa slid one boot into the stirrup and, with a deep breath, hauled herself up.

The world tilted and dropped. With a mild start, Elsa found herself seated properly. Hector was still beneath her and placid. Gerda was watching her with a slight smile. Anna was to Elsa's right and looking pleased as well.

"Good?" Anna asked, pulling Roma closer to Hector. Elsa settled into the saddle, trying to adjust to the feeling of being so high up. It was a bit unnerving, along with how broad a horse's back was. She gingerly eased her other boot into the stirrup, accidentally brushed Hector's flank, and nearly yelped when the horse took a step. Her hand lunged for the saddle pommel.

"Good grief," Elsa managed. She truly was out of practice. A quick inspection found no ice on the saddle leather anywhere. She sighed in relief; the gloves were helping with that, at least.

Anna chuckled. "You're fine. Just relax. It'll come back to you."

Elsa certainly hoped so, especially if she was the one leading. Grasping the reins, she managed to aim Hector's head to the side gate. Gerda went up to her and patted her knee. "You'll be fine," she said, echoing Anna. Her voice lowered. "Your wife does look very fetching today. I've packed a surprise for you. Don't come back too early, now," she said with a sly look.

Elsa stared at her housekeeper. "It's not that kind of ride," she muttered. "I'll be lucky if I don't break my neck during the course of this excursion."

But Gerda had already stepped back and given Hector a good smack on the rump to send them off. Elsa, unprepared, nearly lurched backward and did actually yelp that time, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of Gerda's hearty laugh.

Unsubtle retribution achieved, Elsa thought sourly, and clung to her saddle.

—-

"No guards?" Anna asked as they left the city outskirts. Arendelle looked like a pretty gem surrounded by the clear waters of the fjord, the blue sky reflecting off the mirror-like surface. The path was leading into wooded terrain.

"Not for where we're going," Elsa answered. Her back was already slick with sweat while Anna looked as fresh as the moment they'd left. She had also forgotten how exerting riding could be; they'd only been gone for a half hour. "I have a certain freedom because of my powers."

Anna, who was on Elsa's right side, gave her a curious look. "Really? I mean, not that Arendelle is overrun by shady types, but you are the queen and outside the city walls. I'd have thought the guard would be chaperoning us."

"This trail isn't often used," Elsa said. "And it's precisely because I'm the queen that nobody will want to approach us if we are alone." The smile that bared was cutting. "Cursed and all. Rumor has it that I can freeze anyone into a block of ice and simply dump them into the fjord."

Anna was aghast. "But you would never do that, Elsa!"

"No, but people _think_ I can and will." She shifted on the seat to try to relieve the tension in her lower back. "A perpetuated rumor can be used to advantageous effect. Because of that particular one I have a greater deal of autonomy than others. Others being monarchs, that is."

"But that's still awful," Anna said in a small voice. "That people think you would do that."

Elsa shrugged. "I don't particularly mind it. It can be useful for business negotiations, that unsaid threat. Fear is a strong motivator to acquiesce to my terms." She glanced at Anna. "Does it bother you so much?"

"A little," Anna admitted. "I wouldn't… I wouldn't want people to be afraid of you." Not when Elsa was actually quite kind and so thoughtful, Anna thought. For heaven's sake, Anna was wearing and sitting upon the evidence of Elsa's thoughtfulness. She doubted anyone else would have done so much, wealth notwithstanding.

"I have a more… pragmatic view on it," Elsa said after a moment's hesitation. "The powers are—I don't wish for them. But I have them and I can't change that. I'll make the best of it. But I wouldn't wish my powers upon anyone else. It's not... It's not a gift."

Anna looked like she wanted to say more, but decided against it. They continued along the wooded trail with nothing but the sound of songbirds and their horses' hoofbeats to fill the silence.

From behind Elsa, Anna found her eyes continually drawn back to the queen. It was like looking at a drab painting where the subject was the only source of color—the viewer couldn't help but look and try to decipher the artist's intent. Elsa did cut a fine figure with Hector's strong lines, though she was somewhat awkward with the way she sat in the saddle. Anna had to bite her tongue to keep from correcting Elsa's posture. At some point, Elsa finally had enough and shucked her jacket, folding it over the back of her saddle. Anna found her eyes lingering appreciatively over the way Elsa's damp shirt stuck to her back. She couldn't resist admiring Elsa anymore than she could breathing—she could prevent it for a few minutes, but eventually she would need to breathe lest the princess consort wanted to wind up blue in the face or unconscious on the ground.

Elsa's figure was also very slender. She was not ghastly thin, but Elsa's shoulder blades did seem a bit prominent with the way her shirt molded to them, and her waist a tad too slight. Anna knew that Elsa's hands were strong, but the breadth of her shoulders was on the narrow side. Elsa didn't quite look sickly, but more… overworked, Anna realized. And knowing Elsa, she probably was willfully overworking.

Anna's father had been right—Elsa didneed to eat more. She wasn't quite skin and bones, but she was on her way to it if Anna left her to her own devices. Anna had every intention of making sure that Elsa would be properly fed, though she was recalling with some guilt that she had made Elsa leave before the queen could finish her breakfast. That thought also made her remember the coffee—Elsa didn't even like coffee, which was a taste that both of them shared—Anna made a note to ask her about it. She tried to remember if Elsa had eaten much during the party and could only recall her picking at her food and sharing the chocolates. Elsa had to be feeling hungry by now.

"I can hear you thinking," Elsa commented, not turning. "I think there might be two holes in the back of my shirt with how you've been staring at me."

Anna couldn't prevent the smile that crept up. "Was it so obvious?"

"You do like to fill the silences," Elsa said, glancing over her shoulder at Anna. "If you weren't talking, then you were daydreaming or thinking up schemes to get us in trouble." A glint lit up Elsa's eyes. "And I'd have to wade in to get you out of it if it was the latter."

Anna laughed. "Maybe I'm actually thinking serious thoughts," she said.

"Well, I suppose it was bound to happen one of these days," was Elsa's dry reply.

Anna's jaw dropped. "Elsa! That was mean!" But Anna was unoffended and nudged Roma up next to Hector. "How do you feel, though?"

Elsa gave her an arch look. "Like I've been riding for the first time in forever?"

"Well, other than that." Anna tried to discreetly search for signs of fatigue on Elsa's face and didn't find anything unusual except the look of someone being forced to exercise after too long. "Are you tired? We can stop if you want."

Elsa smiled thinly at her. "Regretting turning down my offer for an escort?" Elsa hated looking so unskilled before Anna even though she had warned the younger woman.

God. Elsa was reacting just as Anna thought she might—affronted dignity glared back at the princess consort. "Not at all," Anna said lightly, deciding to counter the barb with good humor. "I was just asking in case you'd rather have lunch before or after we get to the fields. I was thinking a good race would be nice once we get there."

Anna was rewarded with a suspicious glance. "I see," Elsa allowed after a pause. "My back does hurt a bit," she conceded.

"You're too tense," Anna said. "You're not centered on the saddle and it's jarring you."

"I'm not sure how else to do this," Elsa confessed once she was sure Anna would not think less of her for it. Her damned dented pride. "I'm sorry, I've never been very good at it even when I rode more often."

Anna shook her head at the apology. "It's all right. You… I don't think you like doing something that you can't control," she said. Elsa looked at her in surprise; Anna was a bit surprised herself. She'd never consciously thought about it, but it did make sense for Elsa. She decided to press on.

"You've spent most of your life trying to control your powers, and doing what your father taught you, and Uncle Alexander never did place much stock in riding," Anna said with a slight smile. "But horses _can't _always be controlled. They're another living thing and while they can be trained and be well-mannered, you can't ever really dictate them the same way you can people."

There was another pause as Elsa absorbed her words. "Well," she said, considering the words. The reasoning wasn't unsound, though it also uncovered some parts of herself that were not very flattering. Elsa did not want to turn her face away from truth, however, and glanced at Anna to continue.

Anna reddened. She wondered if any of that sounded coherent. "I just mean that that might be why you're not comfortable around them, your powers aside. Hector doesn't mind you, clearly, but you're still not willing to trust him."

"He's an animal," Elsa said automatically, then looked away when she realized she'd just proved Anna's point.

"At least you didn't call him an 'it,'" Anna said, smiling. "Progress?"

"Perhaps," Elsa permitted. "As good as your riding lessons are, though, I don't think I will improve by the day's end."

"Well, today isn't about learning to ride," Anna said. "It's just about spending the day together."

Elsa gazed at her for a moment, but smiled and nodded.

—-

They completed the remainder of the trip to the stretch of open field by following the edge of the fjord. They traveled in relative silence, both contained within their own thoughts. The sun was high above their heads and the day warm when they arrived. The fjord lay on one side of the field and trees lined the other with a cleared path that led away from the water into the mountains. Sunlight brightened the tall grass and there was a idyllic air to the scene, the only sound coming from the wind blowing through.

"This is my family's land," Elsa remarked. "Not the kingdom's. It used to be a small bit of farmland, about three acres, but the previous tenants left and my father let it stay vacant." Elsa pointed to the cleared path. "The farmhouse is still standing further up that path, I think."

"Do you come here often?"

Elsa shook her head. "No, not for some time now," She winced as her back and legs complained. "Anna, I need to get down. I don't know how you can do this all the time," Elsa sighed.

"You just haven't done it enough. Go riding with me every morning and you won't be sore."

Elsa didn't look particularly enthused by the invitation. "We'll see," was all she had to say about it.

"Isn't it nice, though? Being outside?" Anna asked. "This place is so pretty, too."

"It is nice," Elsa conceded. "I'm glad that you like it. You're free to come here for your morning rides if you want. It's very quiet. I doubt you'd encounter many travelers on the road, especially if you go the way we came."

"I'd prefer to come here with _you_, Elsa, Morning rides are more enjoyable with company, you know." Anna nudged Roma closer to Hector to meet Elsa's eyes.

"Please consider it," she said. It couldn't be healthy to stare at paperwork indoors all day. Elsa needed to go outside, at least once in a while. "It doesn't have to be daily. Will you think about it?"

"Is it so important to you?" Elsa asked, slightly taken aback. "We didn't always ride together when we were children."

"You started riding less when you were older," Anna said. "And is it so wrong for me to want your company?"

After a moment spent studying the younger woman, and wondering if she could ever really like riding as Anna did, Elsa nodded once. "I'll consider it."

Well, it was better than nothing. "Elsa, when did you start drinking coffee? You don't even _like_ coffee," Anna asked, thoughts turning to the picnic and food.

Elsa didn't answer. She led them to the foot of a large tree and gingerly dismounted. "We don't have to have lunch now, but I cannot stay in the saddle for much longer. If you want, you can take Roma for a run and I'll just sit and watch."

Anna wasn't that hungry, but Elsa needed to eat. "Oh, don't be silly, we'll have lunch now." She secured Hector and Roma's reins to a low-hanging branch and helped Elsa unload the satchel. Inside, they found a large blanket, a bottle of wine, a half of a wrapped cold chicken, cheese, flatbread and assorted pastries and other dishes. There was also a single sleeping roll that they both studiously ignored—Anna would have been delighted at the sight of it, but seduction was the last thing on her mind since she had realized the state of Elsa's health.

Elsa stared at the wine. "Gerda knows very well that I don't drink alcohol," she muttered. "Something special indeed." She wanted to sigh inwardly. The sleeping roll was probably because the housekeeper knew that they had spent the night in separate rooms. Trust Gerda to play matchmaker this way, Elsa thought with a mix of embarrassment and resignation. Which made no sense since they were already married. What did her housekeeper care if the royal couple was enjoying intimate relations or not?

"Well, the grooms did pack water flasks," Anna said, missing Elsa's last comment. Anna unfurled the blanket and laid it out under the shade, placing the cloth edge right next to the tree. Elsa took the cue and eased herself down along the trunk, sighing in relief.

"Thank you," Elsa murmured, ever polite. She felt sore enough to let Anna lay out their lunch. Her lower back was a giant tight knot and her thighs in not much better condition. If she was this sore at present, she would be in even worse shape tomorrow. And Anna wanted to do this more, she sighed inwardly. Elsa knew that she would probably agree to it—Anna had a way of bringing her around to doing things she didn't even want to do.

Sitting crosslegged a decorous distance away, Anna cut heaping amounts of everything aside from the pastries onto a plate and gave it to Elsa. Elsa looked down at her plate in bemusement.

"I can hardly finish all this. Is this your way of telling me I need to eat more?"

It was, but Anna had learned from the previous attempt at showing concern. "You didn't finish your breakfast," Anna said instead. "I thought you'd be hungry after the ride." It couldn't be construed as anything but politely considerate.

"Ah," was all Elsa had to say about her veiled solicitousness. Anna wasn't sure if Elsa believed her, but the queen started eating and went quiet. Anna shed her own jacket in acknowledgement of the warm day and chewed on a bit of flatbread.

"I don't like coffee," Elsa said suddenly, after several minutes of silence. "But I've had enough of it that I feel poorly if I don't drink it now."

"Why did you start drinking it?" Anna asked. She had a feeling she knew why.

"Late nights." Elsa knew she was dancing around the real issue and that her response had implied it was for work, but the coffee had originally been to avoid sleeping and that was a subject she did not want to broach at all. The lack of sleep had meant more hours available to work, but she didn't want to lie to Anna either. Another half-truth was all she could manage. "And I used to drink it with a bit of chocolate at first to tolerate the taste. I've gotten used to having it without that now."

Anna handed Elsa a water flask and tried not to appear too watchful of how much Elsa was eating—she had experienced that with her mother and knew hovering was an irritating habit to endure when it was directed at you. If Anna found it annoying, then Elsa would probably scalp her for it. "So, you drink it out of habit now?"

"Yes. And to avoid splitting headaches." Elsa exhaled slowly and laid her head back against the tree. It really was a beautiful day. The breeze from the fjord had cooled her and her skin was no longer damp with sweat. The sound of air tousling grass and tree leaves was soothing; it was nothing romantic like music, but just a pleasant sound all the same. A reminder that there was another world outside of the castle, away from work and walls.

Anna bit her lip, her eyes on Elsa. Was now a good time? Elsa hadn't enjoyed the ride, she knew, but that was to be expected for any out of practice rider. Elsa did look better sitting down, her shoulders relaxed and hands loose on her lap. She had even shed the riding gloves to eat. Anna imagined the thick leather restricted dexterity unlike Elsa's cloth gloves. Lovely as Elsa's hands were, they were the last thing on Anna's mind.

"Elsa," Anna started to say, her voice quiet. "Can I ask you something?"

Anna sounded serious. The queen opened her eyes and shifted her plate off her lap to the blanket. She blinked a few times, surprised at how at ease she felt. Maybe Anna's opinion on exercise and outdoors had some merit.

"Of course," Elsa said, composing herself. She would have sat up straighter, but her back was still upset with her.

Anna looked down at her hand, fingers plucking at blades of grass nervously. "You promise not to get angry?"

Elsa's brows drew up together. Anna looked apprehensive. "I won't," Elsa promised. She couldn't imagine what Anna wanted to ask. "Provided you're not about to tell me you did something ludicrous and I must go do something about it this very instant. Then I might be somewhat perturbed that we have to rush our return and my back really will kill me if I move right now," she said lightly.

Anna gave her a smile, quick and small, but it disappeared as her face turned serious. "Why… why did you stop writing?"

Elsa's lips parted even as her belly clenched and plummeted. She had not expected that. The silence grew as Elsa tried to come up with a suitable answer, until Anna asked, "Was it because of your parents? I did write you a few times afterward, but you… you never wrote back. And Mother said you might be… busy." Anna chewed at her lip, her eyes darting away. "I'm sorry if I was bothering you. I didn't know what else to do, not when Papa said we could not rush to Arendelle without knowing what you wanted."

Elsa recalled those letters. They were the only ones from Anna that Elsa had read once, then locked away. She had not been able to reply. She had not even been able to speak of the loss, or write about it, even to Anna. Not then, and possibly not now either.

"Anna," Elsa began. The younger woman looked up, expecting refusal. Elsa opened her mouth, then closed it and looked away. The words felt lodged and heavy in her chest, like a boulder. Three years and she still could not do this. Not that she had tried to before, but it still tasted of failure.

"That really isn't...a suitable conversation topic for a day like this," Elsa tried. She didn't know if she was saying that to avoid having to talk about it or if it really was to keep it from casting a shadow on their outing. She breathed out. "Is there a reason why you're asking now?"

"Well, we haven't talked about what's happened before. Before the wedding, I mean," Anna said, eyes still downcast. "And I thought… we should. Elsa, I know you were right that we've changed. But the letters at least would have kept us in contact. And so much has happened since then, like your… your parents." Anna bit her lip again and made herself look at Elsa, trying to find something in her face to confirm that she was right. Elsa didn't look angry or upset, but she did look uncomfortable.

"I want to know, Elsa. You know what chocolates I like, you know how much I like horses, and I feel like I know you in some ways, Elsa, but in other ways, I don't. We know these little things about each other, but I feel like that's not enough." How could it be enough? The depth of how much they did not know each other seemed impossibly deep, like staring down a barren well, trying to find a hidden stream. It gnawed at Anna insistently like an unreachable itch—somehow, she knew Elsa, but she also just… didn't.

Perhaps that was what the courtship was for, but Anna could say with certainty that she had not known Hans and he had courted her so properly it had bordered on boring. Not that Anna had thought of that before, back when she was obviously an untried girl full of grand ideas and knew nothing of the real world. Knew nothing of Elsa, or proper kisses, or real passion. In just a day, Elsa had upended Anna's every expectation without so much as a by your leave—all just by marrying her. A day before and Anna would never have cornered someone up against a wall and invited them into her bed with the confidence of a courtesan, nor would she have actively tried to seduce them. Elsa had remade her, carved her out from a formless shape like an ice sculpture, into something filled with heat and warmth and light. So many feelings that made Anna wish she was a poet.

Anna wondered, at the back of her mind, if she'd also changed Elsa in some way.

Elsa looked away. "The pitfalls of an arranged marriage," she said tonelessly.

"Elsa," Anna sighed. "I don't mean it like that. The only thing I know for sure is that you care about me enough to buy these wedding gifts and you like kissing me. And that you obviously want to have sex with me, but won't. And you promised you'd tell me why," Anna added, as though Elsa may have forgotten.

It was so blunt that Elsa grimaced. "I did promise," she affirmed. She left the sex part unaddressed because Anna obviously did not need more reassurances in that area.

"I'm horribly attracted to you as well," Anna said with a trace of amusement because she did notice what Elsa had left unsaid. "And I care about you, too. I admit that I didn't know what kind of marriage this would be, being married to you. I had… no frame of reference. I don't know anybody, well, any woman who is married to another woman."

Elsa didn't either, but she hardly socialized, so saying she didn't know any married women as well seemed extraneous. She forced her mind away from focusing on Anna's declaration of… caring. God, it sounded so… She refused to finished the thought, not when her attention needed to stay on the current topic at hand. "Your concern is that you don't know what to expect from being married to me, then? Duties notwithstanding?"

"A little bit of that. But it's more that I don't know anything about what you've been up to." Which was why Anna had started upon the letters as a starting point. It felt as though they'd lost each other at that point.

Elsa couldn't help that saber of a smile that flashed, cutting and cold. "Not much if you'll recall."

Anna flinched even as Elsa instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry—"

"No, that was uncalled for," Elsa interrupted. She breathed out. "I can talk about the letters. Not… not about my parents."

Death affected people in different ways; Anna knew that. She'd never experienced that kind of loss, not in the way Elsa had, but she could understand that it wasn't dinner conversation. She would need to be patient. In certain things, pushing forward a step could mean losing a mile of progress. She could not force it out of Elsa because the potential fallout from that… She didn't even know what kind of damage there would be, but she didn't think the trust between them would survive it. Was that all they had? Anna wondered. A tenuous trust, a great deal of passion and caring? Sprinkled in with fond childhood memories that seemed to pale in comparison to four years of silence, loss, and a whirlwind wedding?

If it was, Anna wanted to build upon it. She wanted to make something real out of it with Elsa.

"I'm sorry that I didn't respond to your letters. It wasn't anything you did. I just… couldn't. I didn't know what to say." Elsa looked away, eyes settling on the calm waters of the fjord. Her hands gripped each other, knuckles white, but the air felt cold. Or perhaps it was just her that was cold.

"I felt like that for a long time, so that's why I never resumed our correspondence." How could she have? The last thing said between them was of death. How could she just start writing again and pretend it had never happened? It was like a door had closed between them in that area, one that Elsa could not open. Would not open.

"And if it's any consolation, I haven't spoken to anyone about... that," Elsa said. "This is probably the closest I've come to… speaking of it."

It was a very small consolation for Anna, but only because she knew now that Elsa had bottled up her pain, sealed it away, and moved on. It was in her face, the way Elsa's eyes became shuttered. It could not be healthy, especially to have held it in for so many years and to have endured the loss alone. Anna wished fiercely, with every fiber of her being, that she could have been there for Elsa. Even if she would have been ill-equipped to help her, at least Elsa would not have been alone. Tears abruptly filled Anna's throat, snaking up to the back of her eyes. Anna gave an unceremonious sniff.

Elsa glanced at her, her face turning remorseful when a tear escaped and left a wet trail down Anna's cheek.

"Ah. I'm sorry. I've made you cry," Elsa said awkwardly. Guilt nipped at her. She had made Anna cry. She did not know what she should do and fidgeted, feeling quite useless.

Anna shook her head and scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. She was too sensitive to this sort of thing and it was turning her into a weepy female. "It's not your fault, Elsa. I'm sorry, you know how I get."

Elsa fished out a handkerchief, knowing well that Anna never had one because she was always forgetting or losing them. "You won't shed a tear if you take a tumble off your horse, but you will if you see one being born," she said with a faint smile. Anna blew her nose noisily into the handkerchief.

"I wish I'd been there for you," Anna said, her voice shaky from tears.

"It was a long time ago, Anna," Elsa protested.

"But at least you wouldn't have been by yourself!"

"I wasn't entirely alone. I had Gerda."

"Oh, well, I suppose that's something," Anna said, only a little sarcastically. "Not to disparage Gerda, but I wouldn't have thought you'd let her help you."

Elsa smiled slightly. "You'd be surprised." She gazed at Anna and knew words would not be enough. With a slight wince, Elsa rearranged herself against the tree and straightened her legs. Elsa could offer comfort, even if she couldn't accept it. "Come here," Elsa beckoned gently.

Anna went to her immediately, sitting in the open space between her bent legs and curled into Elsa like it was a long-standing habit. Anna's head went into the crook between Elsa's neck and shoulder and her arms looped about Elsa's waist. Elsa wrapped an arm about Anna's shoulders while her other hand rested on the space beside her thigh, fingers twisting at the blanket.

"I'm not sure you'd have been able to help much, Anna, if you'd come," she said softly. "I was… I wasn't entirely…" _Whole_, Elsa thought. The loss had shattered her into so many pieces. She thought of the empty ballroom covered in ice, how the servants had to break open doors frozen shut because Gerda had been afraid that grief would end the last surviving member of House Arendelle. To say that Elsa had not handled the loss well was a gross understatement.

She had thought if something could be broken, then surely ice could mend it and she could put herself back together again. Or maybe she'd gone in there to freeze time in place, pretend that messenger had never come, and return to that blissfully ignorant week before everything had been taken from her. Foolish notions, both of them, borne of trauma, helplessness and grief. She had been a disappointment to everyone with how she'd hidden away. No, Elsa was glad Anna hadn't been there to witness her breakdown, the way she'd so profoundly fallen apart. She had needed to be dragged out by her own housekeeper, like a mongrel crouched under a table. Mourning was one thing, but what'd she done… Elsa didn't even know what to call it. It'd been unacceptable. That was really the only appropriate word for it. Unacceptable.

Even remembering it made her feel exhausted; it was like digging up an old buried secret. She did not want to think about it, much less speak of it. It was such an old thing, something that could not be changed, and pointless to dwell on. Her lost family still lingered in her thoughts, but she had no wish to think of the way they had died, or of the way she had cracked. It made her burn with shame.

She clenched her first around the blanket again, frost nipping into her skin. She wished she hadn't taken off the gloves.

"Elsa?" Anna drew her back.

"I'm sorry," she said mechanically. "I haven't thought about this in a long time."

"I'm sorry," Anna echoed. "For making you remember it. I miss them, too." Then she sniffed loudly again and made a plucking motion at Elsa's shirt front. It distracted the queen away from her thoughts, that motion; Elsa knew Anna couldn't have done it deliberately. She wrinkled her nose, not wanting to look down to confirm what she suspected. "I hope you're not using my shirt as a handkerchief."

"No," Anna said in that small voice that meant the exact opposite.

Elsa sighed, discreetly wiped her damp hand on her breeches, and fished out another handkerchief. "I usually take two of these when I'm with you," she offered by way of explanation. Anna took it and blew her nose again.

"I forgot mine," Anna said apologetically.

"You always forget yours." Elsa stroked a hand over Anna's hair, trying to keep her attention on something other than memories. Her fingers brushed the blue ribbon, then down the sleek copper hair, letting the strands flow out of her palm.

"You're wearing my ribbon," Elsa murmured.

"You didn't ask for it back," Anna mumbled. Elsa felt solid and alive, Anna thought. The feel of Elsa against her own body was comforting, knowing that she was there. Elsa was still there. Pressed against Elsa, Anna only felt protectiveness and sorrow for the girl who'd suffered alone. She was also even more aware of how Elsa needed to eat more and it hurt to think that Elsa had been so damaged that she couldn't even take care of herself anymore. Well, her job now, Anna thought with resolve.

"I was too busy trying to find yours last night," Elsa replied. She continued to play with the ends of Anna's hair, her voice just starting to drift drowsily. "I did find it this morning, though. Before breakfast."

"Where was it?"

"Under the chessboard. Gerda found it before I did." Elsa felt Anna start and, without thinking, stroked a hand down Anna's back to calm her. "Shh. Gerda gave it back to me. She won't breathe a word about it."

Anna's lids fluttered at the touch, the way Elsa's fingers feathered down her spine. If only Elsa would touch horses so easily, she thought hazily. They'd all love her, too.

"Did she say anything to you?"

Elsa sighed heavily, remembering her earlier defeat. "Yes. I made off with most of my dignity intact. And a bruise." It even twinged a bit as she thought of it, like a battle wound.

"How did you manage that?"

"I was under the table looking for it. Gerda startled me and I cracked my head. Don't laugh at me," Elsa said, sounding very put-upon. "Gerda already did."

Anna managed to stifle the giggle that welled up at the image of Elsa hitting her head under the chessboard while Gerda looked on, but Elsa could feel her body shaking with mirth and sighed again.

"Everybody is enjoying themselves at my expense today," Elsa complained. "Sometimes I wonder if I have any authority at all."

Anna stroked her hand along Elsa's back, much like what the queen had done to her. "You're very much in charge and everybody knows it," she reassured with a smile, cheek pressed to Elsa's shoulder. "A perfect tyrant, remember? With an impressive glare."

Elsa glanced down at copper hair. "An impressive glare?"

"Very. Makes me shake in my boots. Everybody else, too, if they wore boots."

Elsa snorted, but did not comment. It felt good to just talk about innocuous things. She didn't think she could handle much more than that. Her lids felt like lead and her breathing was becoming deeper and more even. She wanted to sleep. Apparently, one good night of rest didn't quite make up for several years' worth of poor ones. When was the last time she had spent a day without working? She couldn't even remember. She felt so drained.

"Anna," Elsa murmured, her mind trying to grasp for the last thing that had been said, but the attempt was like reaching for smoke. "I'm quite tired. I'm sorry, but I might fall asleep." She tried rubbing at her eyes, but it did nothing. She could feel her chin wanting to drop to her chest. She was quite comfortable—Anna's warm weight against her side, the quiet field, the cool shade, all of it was making her want to just drift off.

Anna sat up to examine her. Elsa didn't look like a queen at the moment, not when she was at the edge of sleep. Elsa tried to focus her eyes on Anna, blinking slowly, but Anna could see that they were heavy. "Sleep then, Elsa," Anna whispered.

Elsa frowned and tried to struggle upright. Anna stopped her with a hand to her shoulder—she didn't even need to apply much force—and made Elsa lean back again. "No, we were supposed to go riding and have a picnic. And then…" Elsa trailed off. "Did we plan something else?" Her words were slurring a little, and it made that protective feeling come back again for Anna. Elsa had to be very tired if she couldn't even remember.

Anna shook her head. "No. We've done all that. You're allowed to sleep."

"But you're here. I don't… want to just sleep. You want to do things. Allegedly with me," Elsa said, her voice drifting again. "Can't imagine why. I'm really very boring, you know. Don't know how to… have fun."

Anna frowned at Elsa, but her eyes were closed. "I don't think you're boring," she said, just in case Elsa was still conscious.

Elsa smiled faintly in response. "Mm. Don't molest me in my sleep, please."

Anna released a surprised laugh. Elsa could still remember certain things, evidently. "No, I'd prefer if you were awake for that," she teased.

Elsa didn't reply, finally surrendering herself.

Anna watched her for a long time. Elsa's face was smooth and relaxed in sleep. It was the first time Anna had seen Elsa sleep in years and she looked so human. Not a queen or a ruler. Just a woman in repose on a sunny day under a tree. Anna had to smile—she had expected to see her spouse's sleeping face for the first time in the morning after their wedding night in bed. Instead, Elsa had fallen asleep underneath her outside in the afternoon. They were doing everything backwards and out of order.

Or maybe it was just right for them. Anna reached for her jacket and draped it over Elsa. Elsa stirred briefly, then settled again, like a child. Anna couldn't resist; she bent down and brushed a kiss over blonde hair and remembered the bruise Elsa had suffered for her ribbon. The tale still made her grin. Poor Elsa, she thought fondly. Well, it was a good thing Elsa had plenty of dignity if it was getting assailed so much.

Then she went to where Hector was grazing and stroked her hand over his nose. "Let's take you out for a run," she said. "Would you like that?"

He nudged at her palm and nickered. "Yes, I bet you would," Anna murmured. "Thank you for not letting Elsa fall off. I know it couldn't have been pleasant with the way she sat on you like a sack of potatoes." Not that she'd ever tell Elsa that, but she still felt she needed to apologize to Hector on the queen's behalf. She doubted he had encountered a worse rider before given his fine pedigree and the renowned stables he had been bought from.

"Elsa will get better," Anna promised. "I'll have her ride Roma next, so you won't have to put up with it very much." She untied his reins and nudged him into a canter to go explore the field and surrounding woods.

—-

It was late afternoon when Elsa opened her eyes. She found herself on her side, the picnic blanket beneath her. As Elsa sat up, she saw that she'd been using her own rolled jacket up jacket as a pillow and Anna's burgundy one as a cover.

Elsa rubbed at her eyes. God. She'd fallen asleep, and for several hours it appeared. She looked out to the fjord and saw Hector drinking by the edge and riderless. Roma was conspicuously missing, as was Anna. Elsa stood and stretched, wincing as her back and legs protested. The picnic food had been packed away, but Anna had thoughtfully left a water flask behind and Elsa drained it in her thirst. As she was twisting it shut, she heard the sound of galloping hooves and looked to the source.

There Anna was, astride Roma's back as they flew down the field. Elsa could see every detail perfectly: Anna was off the saddle, knees bent and leaning forward, reins loose in her hands. Her white shirt pulled taut over her front against the wind, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, showing toned forearms. Her form, as far as Elsa could tell, was perfect. Copper whipped behind her like a flag laced in blue.

Elsa had been right. In the afternoon sun, Roma's coat turned into that heartbreakingly beautiful molten copper, exactly like Anna's. It shimmered in the sun as they moved, the mare's legs a blur as Anna urged her on. If it was possible, Anna had grown even more beautiful—this was the first Elsa had seen her on the back of a galloping horse in years. They moved together, horse and rider, as though they weren't even separate beings anymore.

Grace and glory, was all Elsa could think, her eyes transfixed by the sight. Anna had always evoked that feeling of witnessing something so special whenever Elsa watched her ride. The expression of pure joy that always appeared on Anna's face when she found a rhythm with a horse, when a horse did something just right as she'd taught, only added to it. Elsa could see that expression now, and felt privileged.

Then Anna saw her and that pure joy turned into something else that Elsa couldn't decipher, but it made her heart skip a beat. Elsa waved to her. Anna slowed Roma into a trot and stopped before the queen.

"You're awake," Anna said, smiling. Her hair was windblown and Elsa wanted to pull Anna down and smooth it down with her fingers. Her bare hands twitched.

"I am," Elsa said, smiling back. She should have felt guilty for sleeping the day away, but she'd seen Anna ride and could only feel happy.

"Was it good?" Anna asked.

She nodded. "It was." It had been a deep, dreamless sleep. Her mind felt clear, though that could have been from watching Anna as well. Elsa didn't care—she felt good all the same and those kinds of feelings were rare for her.

Anna dismounted and went to Elsa, reins in hand. Roma wasn't even winded. Anna was pleased that the mare was as fit and well-kept as she looked. Her gait was smooth, the kind that made a rider feel as though they were floating over the ground.

When they were within reach, Elsa reached up to brush Anna's fringe back from her eyes.

"What were you up to while I was unconscious?" Elsa asked. Her hand was already drifting uncertainly to the top of Anna's head, wondering if Anna would permit it.

"Just exploring the area," Anna said. She submitted willingly to Elsa's impromptu grooming. It felt nostalgic—another thing they'd done when they were younger. Elsa had tidied her up when she wasn't presentable even to the most loving of parents after a day spent in the saddle.

"Did you find anything of interest?" Elsa asked as she tucked a loose strand behind Anna's ear. It had gotten pulled out of the ribbon, which was why Anna preferred braids, but Elsa did like her hair unplaited.

"The farmhouse you mentioned, and some trails. They don't look used very much, but shouldn't be difficult to travel."

"Mm. I can look for a map of the area. Are you already planning morning rides for me?" Elsa answered, distracted. A stubborn lock curled over her fingers and she patiently smoothed it down again. "There. From ruffian to royalty again."

Anna grinned and looked up. Elsa did look well rested. "Maybe. I want to be prepared, as you like to say. Both Hector and Roma are very good horses, by the way."

"You think all horses are good horses. Quite democratic of you," Elsa replied drily.

Anna laughed at that. "I am indiscriminate about it, aren't I? But I just meant they're well cared for." Anna began to walk to the fjord to water Roma and Elsa fell into step beside her. Hector grazed as Roma began to drink, a comfortable silence falling while they gazed out at the sparkling water.

The city was still visible in the distance downstream, the soaring turrets of the castle arching high above the battlements. Two flags waved gently in the wind at the highest tower. Anna recognized the the topmost flag as Elsa's royal standard, the crocus upon a violet and green background, but not the one below. Emblazoned upon a green field was a pair of facing golden horses with a crocus between their rearing hooves. Anna recognized the horses from her father's royal standard of Corona.

"Your new standard," Elsa said, as though she had read Anna's thoughts. "The flags are there to mean we are in residence, of course."

Anna turned to stare at Elsa. She knew that when members of royalty were wed, new seals would be made, but it had never occurred to her that she would get her own.

"I hope you like it," Elsa said, looking back at the castle. "You're part of House Arendelle, now."

She was Elsa's family now. Anna took Elsa's ungloved hand in hers, their fingers interlaced, stepping closing until they were shoulder to shoulder. Elsa looked backed at her in surprise.

"I love it," Anna told her with a smile, and they stood together like that for a time, eyes on their home.


	12. Chapter 12

Anna managed to convince Elsa to ride Roma on the return trip. Elsa had initially been reluctant, but once they had determined that Roma was just as placid as Hector and would not attempt to bite the queen, they were on their way home.

_Home_. It sounded warm, conjuring up the image of that pretty castle bearing her new standard. Anna had spent many summers there with Elsa and Kristoff, but home had been Corona then. She had loved those summers, but when the time came, she and Kristoff would board that ship to go back to Corona. She couldn't call Corona her home anymore and that thought was edged in sadness. She would miss it, the castle where she'd been born and grown up in, the royal stables that provided shelter from etiquette lessons, the wide open plains where wild horse herds still roamed occasionally. Her eyes turned to Elsa, whose posture had improved a bit after some graciously received advice, and the sadness didn't seem like that anymore.

No, Anna decided, she would forever remember her home where she'd spent her formative years, but home was now with Elsa and that thought was accompanied with hope and anticipation. It felt like a new start.

Elsa, however, was not feeling hopeful or anticipatory. The closer they came to the castle, the more aware she was of what she needed to do once she got Frederick alone. It made her hands clench around the reins and filled her with heavy dread. She would need to broach the subject of annulment with Anna's father.

It was difficult to think about, but Elsa knew she could not avoid the issue. Her eyes turned to Anna riding beside her and, of course, it hurt even more when she did, so she averted her gaze as well as her thoughts.

The day they had spent together had been good. Her sore body and mentions of her family notwithstanding, it had been a good day. It had also brought into stark relief that she hadn't even known what constituted good days anymore before marrying Anna—every passing day had largely felt the same except for growing anxiety with the approaching wedding. It had been work, planning, arranging, delegating, overseeing, the whole collective consequence of being the one everybody looked to for decisions, right along with lack of sleep, a skittish appetite, and stretched nerves.

Elsa could understand why Kristoff left. She sometimes even envied him because she knew she would never leave. Her father had taught her well to never shirk her responsibilities. Even if she'd neglected some duties in lieu of the wedding, Elsa would never leave it all behind. It was what she was born to do and Anna was her responsibility; she had to think of her best interests and act thusly.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand touch her leg.

"Elsa?"

"Christ," Elsa managed, trying to recollect herself. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape her ribcage while Roma snorted at her.

"You look grim," Anna explained, her face concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Elsa said automatically, the response ringing hollow even to her own ears.

"It's got to be something to have you looking like that. You can talk to me, you know. Tell me what's on your mind."

Anna would need to know eventually, but Elsa did not want to tell her until the matter had already been addressed with Frederick, which meant more half-truths. Elsa almost sighed. It felt like she was constantly lying to Anna. It wasn't easy—she had never lied to Anna in their youth because there had never been any reason to. Everything had been so much simpler then.

"It's a matter I have to discuss with your father," Elsa said. "I can't really elaborate more on it."

Anna sighed, disappointed. "More things to keep from me, Elsa?"

Elsa looked away. "It's not that," she said. "I promise that I will tell you."

"Can you tell me what it's about? Business, maybe?"

Elsa struggled with herself. The lies, she thought. They were piling up. Surely this many half-truths added up to full blown lies by now. "Not quite."

"Will you tell me tomorrow, then?"

Elsa exhaled. "I will. Thank you," she added softly, because she knew the delay could not be easy to tolerate. She could feel Anna's impatience, the way Anna had to hold back the questions.

Anna sighed again. "I wish you could just talk to me, Elsa," she said, the words etched with resignation. "It sometimes feels like we've forgotten how to speak to each other."

That made Elsa's throat close up and she had to take several seconds to come up with a suitable response. "Maybe we have," she answered. She didn't mean it to hurt; it just felt like the truth. Too long had passed.

"That's not completely true, though," Anna protested. "We can still talk about some things."

"Some," Elsa agreed. She tried for humor, feeling like someone throwing a dart while blindfolded. "Are you going to say that I was right and the courtship idea had some merit?"

Anna stole a glance at her, a smile ghosting over her lips. "If I do, will you say 'I told you so?'"

That got Elsa's attention. Her jaw was already open before she could control her features. "Are you serious? After what you did this morning?"

Anna at least had the grace to blush. "What? It's not my fault! It was—it was the way you looked at me!"

Elsa stared at her.

"Okay, _not_ with that face," Anna said, her face warming even more. The princess consort tried again. "I wasn't really… thinking when that happened."

Elsa stared some more. "Should this really surprise me anymore?" She wondered out loud.

"Elsa!" Anna squirmed in her saddle. She would be mature about this, she decided. Just like Elsa would be if she were in her place.

"_Perhaps_ I was hasty," Anna said in her best haughty voice. "Nonetheless, you'll be confessing to the whole host of the things you've been keeping from me tomorrow and it won't matter, will it?" At least Anna hoped so.

While her interest in dragging Elsa off to some dark corner had been muted in light of what she'd found out over the course of the day, Anna's horrible attraction to Elsa was still there. Just looking at Elsa still made her heart turn over pleasantly in her chest because Elsa was just so damned beautiful, and it did not take much encouragement at all for her to remember how Elsa had kissed her in the library. Thoughts like these weren't what friends entertained about each other. Perhaps that was really the heart of her confusion—she didn't know what exactly they were.

On one level, they were friends, but there were more layers to their confusing relationship that Anna had no idea what to call or even how to describe. This strange tentative dance of theirs: friends one minute, almost lovers in the next, then strangers again— everything mixed up together and neither of them knowing how to act appropriately. Anna didn't know what was the best way for them to just… reach each other. The fact that Elsa was apparently keeping secrets from her was not helping in the least.

Elsa turned her eyes back to the trail. "In a way, perhaps," she said neutrally. In truth, she had no idea how it would change anything other than that Anna would know and could make a sound decision based upon all available facts. Which was only fair—laying all the cards on the table, so to speak. Anna had been playing half-blind, unaware of the rules, and Elsa knew she was partially to blame for that.

She didn't quite want to admit that she was rather terrified of what Anna would decide. She had prepared for this; it wasn't unexpected. But she still felt the tightness seeping into her body—it made her chest and belly cramp and her jaw ache from how hard it strained. She didn't want to do it, but the right choices weren't always the easy ones.

* * *

Upon arriving back at the castle, they separated to their respective rooms to dress for dinner.

In the King's chambers, Elsa followed Anna's advice and had a hot bath drawn. Her legs were shaky by the time she lowered herself in. There was a great deal of wincing as she maneuvered herself into a comfortable position.

A quarter hour later, there was more wincing and cursing as Elsa hobbled out of her bath, dried herself off and went into her closet. She was gingerly stepping into a conservative gray evening dress when Gerda appeared at the door.

"Ugh," Elsa said as she straightened, tugging the bodice up. Her abdominal muscles had joined the rebellion, which she had discovered during her bath, and were attempting to make even dressing miserable for her. "Gerda, I may need your assistance."

Her housekeeper sighed in the way that made Elsa feel small again. "Why didn't your majesty call for a maid?"

"I must have been hoping you were lurking about. Lo and behold, you appeared. Like a witch's familiar."

Gerda's brows climbed. "You seem to be in a poor mood," she commented. The housekeeper held up the dress for Elsa to put her arms through the sleeve.

Elsa sighed. "I am very sore and even slight movement is not easy. Forgive my shortness."

"Did you have a good day at least?" Gerda began to fasten the dress stays, her movements quick and efficient.

"Yes." She could answer that question honestly now. "It was a good day. Riding and a picnic and a nap." She glanced over her shoulder at Gerda. "Your matchmaking attempts are not appreciated, by the way. Wine and a sleeping roll?"

Gerda smiled smugly at her. "I knew you weren't going to put it to use," she informed Elsa. "I meant it as a suggestion."

Was the suggestion to get drunk and sleep together? Elsa wondered. Going by Gerda's face, then yes, it probably was and she was not going to dignify that with any kind of reaction.

"Marital night jitters are understandable," Gerda said placidly.

"Oh, my god," Elsa exclaimed, the meaning of the items confirmed. She wanted to sink through the floor. "Do not. Please," she pleaded.

"Some people just need a little push in the right direction," Gerda continued, undaunted, while Elsa groaned. "I wouldn't have thought you and your wife would be spending your wedding night in separate rooms."

"Gerda," Elsa warned. "I do not wish to speak of it."

The dress laced up, Gerda turned Elsa around to face her. "Whatever it is that is keeping you two apart, I hope you won't allow it to drag on," she said, tone firm.

Looking at Gerda now, though, Elsa was tempted to tell her. Tempted to unload her burdens and look to someone else for guidance, for reassurance, and perhaps for someone else to make the decisions that she was being faced with. Gerda had seen her at her lowest and dragged her back up when everything felt hopeless. But the sentiment was fleeting because Elsa had always been groomed to look to no one but herself. She wasn't a child anymore.

Her spine stiffened and her chin went up. "I won't."

Gerda would have told her that she looked like her father, but the housekeeper didn't think that kind of observation was necessary.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. It was completely incongruous to the wreck that Elsa was inside. She had no appetite. Not even Anna sitting beside her could calm her nerves. They were seated similarly to their breakfast arrangement: Anna to Elsa's right, Alice and Frederick further down the table across from each other.

"How was your ride today?" Alice asked. "I heard you two went off for a romantic picnic."

"It was good," Anna said with a sideways glance to Elsa, a smile on her face. "Wasn't it, Elsa? Enough to go riding every morning?"

That was certainly an underhanded way to get her to go riding more often. Elsa gave the entire table a rather vague smile, simultaneously polite and noncommittal. "Perhaps."

Anna studied her for a moment, but turned her eyes back to Alice and Frederick. "Did you do anything today, Mother?"

"Beyond the usual excitement of embroidering, reading and eavesdropping on the servant gossip?" Alice said drily.

Anna grinned at her mother. "Were you lurking behind a bookcase to overhear what the maids were saying?"

Alice sniffed. "Hardly, dear. I at least had the presence of mind to lurk from a strategic vantage point behind the settee. That thing is quite immense, the one adjoining our room? I would wager I could hide your horse behind it and no one would be any the wiser."

Elsa sighed. "I hope you're not actually eavesdropping on the servants, Aunt." She could just imagine the uproar it'd throw the maids into if they were aware that a certain guest actually lurked behind settees and bookshelves.

"She doesn't," Anna laughed. "Mother just likes to make the servants think she does so they watch their tongues."

It was devious. Obviously Anna was more like her mother than anybody thought. "I presume this is effective if you're inflicting it upon my staff?" Elsa said.

"I would assert that it is," Alice replied. "The servants aren't even surprised to see me anymore."

Elsa didn't know what to say to that ludicrous statement, so she turned her attention to her soup.

"I saw the new horses," Frederick said. The king's countenance had improved since the morning and he no longer appeared as though he'd like to drown himself in the nearest bucket. "A fine stable you've assembled there, Elsa. I like your new head groom as well."

"Oh, aren't they, Papa?" Anna breathed, excited to finally talk about the horses with someone knowledgeable in the subject. "They're _gorgeous_. And from all these famous stables—" The conversation became inundated by observations of hooves and hocks and hands and Elsa could not listen to any of it without feeling entirely at sea. Her gaze wandered away and found, with a mild start, Alice's gaze on her. Her mother-in-law watched Elsa steadily for a beat, then Alice smiled slightly and returned to her own plate.

Elsa was not sure what to make of that, but the footmen began serving the main course and she decided to put it out of her mind.

By the end of dinner as everybody was rising, Elsa somehow managed to say, in her steadiest voice, "Uncle, if I could have a word with you? In my study."

Frederick gave her a questioning look, but nodded. Anna squeezed her hand, her smile sympathetic. "Are you going to be all right? You look like a suitor about to speak with Papa rather than my wife."

Elsa swallowed. Anna had called her her wife. The feeling it evoked was rather like being flattened and simultaneously blessed. Elsa gathered herself up from the aftermath of the inadvertent havoc Anna had just wreaked on her and squeezed her hand back. "Yes, I'll be fine. Thank you," she said, even though she couldn't be sure if Anna had just made the impending talk better or worse.

Anna smiled again and trailed Alice out of the dining hall. Elsa exhaled and straightened her shoulders to lead Frederick to her study.

* * *

"Those horses were a wedding gift, eh?" Frederick said good-naturedly once Elsa had closed the door behind them. "Fine beasts, every one of them. You picked a good man, that O'Brien fellow."

Should she invite him to sit? She couldn't very well force her father-in-law to stand like a subject. He was her peer as well as officially family now, even if he'd always been uncle to her. What kind of tone for this meeting did she want to set? These thoughts ran through her mind lightning-quick, each point assessed and discarded. Finally, she decided to arrange them as she and Anna had been in the morning—across from each other as equals. Instead of the chairs before her desk, she gestured to the facing settees.

"If you would, Uncle?" She asked.

He settled his large frame into a plush cushion with a sigh. "Fine things, these are," he commented. "This room does bring back memories. Your father always did have good taste."

Elsa didn't answer. Playing the role of host, she poured two glasses of water from a pitcher and placed the glasses on the low table before sitting across from Frederick. He did not appear to have noticed her silence and drank from the glass. "No scotch?" He asked hopefully, eyeing the small bar in a corner.

"I'm afraid I don't like spirits," Elsa said. She was not going to send for a servant to fetch any. "Uncle, I need to speak with you on a certain matter."

"Yes?"

Was this going to be like their last talk in Corona? Elsa wondered. When she couldn't find the right words, when exhaustion and grief had dogged her? No, she decided. It was not. With the strength borne from a wedding, a chess game, and a picnic, she pushed forward.

"The amendment. You didn't tell Anna about the contract amendment."

Frederick stared at her in astonishment. That was obviously the last thing he had expected her to say. He composed himself quickly, as expected of a king. His eyes, blue like Anna's, were inscrutable as they gazed back at her.

"Why would I have, Elsa?" He asked, voice soft. "I did not agree to the amendment. I did it at your urging."

Was he trying to deflect blame? "She is your _daughter_." Elsa's voice turned hard and flinty. "She has a right to know."

A muscle in Frederick's cheek jumped as the air grew tense. She could see his fists clenching on his thighs.

"You do not speak to _me_ in my capacity as a father, girl," Frederick growled, eyes flashing. Her own jaw tightened at the uttered slight. "I have only _ever_ looked for the best for my daughter. She deserves only the best that I can give her, though I find myself reconsidering certain decisions now."

"You should have told her when the amendment was done. And now we are wed and she still doesn't know."

"Then _tell her_," Frederick snapped. "It is your responsibility. You added that clause when there was never any reason to. _You _came to me a year ago in secrecy like a damned thief in the night because you were too cowardly to face your own betrothed!" He growled, his face darkening with temper. "Elsa, my patience wears thin with how you have handled this entire betrothal. Your father would have been disappointed."

That jab hit its target with stunning precision. Elsa felt herself flinch, her body recoiling at the rebuke.

_Your father would have been disappointed_.

"I will do my duty and tell her," Elsa finally managed to say. "I called you here to discuss the possibility of annulment should Anna wish it."

Frederick stared at her, incredulity etched in every line of his body and countenance.

"_Annulment?"_ He nearly bellowed the word at her, like an enraged bull. He roared to his feet and jabbed a finger at her as though he wished it were a sword to run her through with. "What is _wrong_ with you? You will do no such thing to my daughter!"

"I never said that I wanted it," Elsa said carefully, as though she might very well break if she moved too suddenly. "It is if Anna wishes it."

"Why the hell would she?"

"So her children, should she bear any, are not part of the line of succession. So they are not… so they will not leave. Like Kristoff."

The mention of the king's son had not been intended to hurt, but she saw the way Frederick's face become shut off as abruptly as a slammed door. The temper seemed to drain out of the king, leaving his shoulders and head slumped. "Do not speak of my son," he said, his voice hoarse with pain.

"I'm sorry," Elsa said, because she truly was. "I bring it up only because I do not want Anna to endure the same."

The king put his face into his hand. "Elsa, you may think you are doing what is best for Anna, but you are not. These things you ask for, perhaps you do not care for the consequences, but _annulment_? It could ruin Anna's reputation, her name, and I will not allow—"

A knock sounded. Both turned their heads to look to the door as it opened. Elsa opened her mouth, ready to send the servant away until the words died in her mouth. It was Alice.

"I heard shouting," Alice said. "Specifically, my husband shouting the word 'annulment.'" Her brows went up. "I thought I should investigate. Especially if that word is being tossed about in a conversation between my husband and my recently wedded daughter-in-law."

"It's nothing," Elsa and Frederick said in unison. They glanced at each other.

Alice's eyes rolled. "You might as well tell me now before it comes out in the most embarrassing way possible," she suggested. "I would remind you, Frederick, that anything involving our children falls under my jurisdiction as well."

Still standing, Frederick folded his arms over his chest and appeared distinctly disgruntled. "Elsa wants my consent to annul the marriage."

"If Anna wants it," Elsa said. She didn't want to talk to both of them, but could see no way out of it. "Then I will give my consent to annul the marriage."

Alice stared at Elsa. She shut the door behind herself and when she spoke, her voice was steady, calm. Like just before a storm. "Why would Anna want an annulment?"

"For her children, in case she does not want them in the line of succession—"

Alice held up a hand to stop her. "Elsa, I appear to be unaware of something crucial. Why would you be worried about her _children_? Are you not going to adopt?"

Elsa opened her mouth, and realized at the same moment as Frederick started to speak. "Does she not know—"

"Alice, the marriage contract—" He stopped, then sighed. "No. She doesn't. I haven't told anyone of the amendment," he told Elsa.

"This is all very cryptic and I grow weary of the secrecy," Alice said. "What do I not know?"

Frederick gave Elsa a meaningful look. Elsa took the hint.

"My father removed a clause regarding male companions for the sake of children," Elsa answered. "I requested that it be placed back."

Alice's eyes turned back to her husband. "Going by the turn of this conversation, you agreed to this, Frederick, did you not?" Her tone was sharp. Frederick hesitated, then nodded once.

"You _fool_." Alice was visibly furious. Both Elsa and Frederick started and gave Alice wide-eyed stares. "Why would you agree to such a thing?"

"Aunt, it was at my insistence," Elsa started, alarmed. "I pushed to have it included."

"Of course it would be you," Alice snapped. "You are _exactly _like your parents." But the way she said it made it sound as though it were an egregious character flaw. Elsa wanted to cringe under that hard stare, a feeling that she had not experienced in years. "Frederick, I will speak with you later." The king was startled at the dismissal, but after another heated glance from Alice, he sighed and wordlessly took his leave. Alice took his place on the settee, folding her hands in her lap.

Elsa still felt like a scolded puppy under her mother-in-law's eyes. She was abruptly aware that Alice was her elder and demanded respect. "Aunt," she tried.

"It's like watching history repeat itself," Alice said without preamble. "I find it most distressing to witness it unfolding before my very eyes."

Of course, none of that made any sense to Elsa. "I don't understand," Elsa said, feeling vaguely apologetic and confused. "What does—what does that have anything to do with annulment?"

Alice took a deep breath. "I presume you had the contract amended out of some misguided belief that Arendelle needs an heir?"

"It's not misguided!" Elsa protested. "Arendelle does need an heir." She didn't need to say that she couldn't be the one to do it—her powers were an unavoidable issue.

"And you intend for Anna to take a male lover and breed one?"

Elsa flinched. "Breed" made it sound so… clinical. "Yes," she said. "But Anna should also be given the chance to have her own children. It's not only for the sake of Arendelle. I… I want to give Anna choices," she continued, her voice soft. "This marriage was not a choice for her."

At that, Alice's expression softened. "Elsa, why did you go through with the betrothal, then?"

She knew Alice meant that once her parents had died, she could have broken off the engagement. Frederick and Alice would have allowed it and no one would have stopped her. "My father wanted me to marry Anna," she said. "It was one of his last wishes."

Alice didn't answer and by the way her mother-in-law looked at her, Elsa knew she was aware that that wasn't the entire truth. Because the entire truth was that Elsa had not been able to let go of that one dream she'd wanted most out of all the things she'd wanted in her life—to prove to her father she was worthy, to be an able and just queen, to never disappoint. All of those things she aspired to were qualities any royal heir _should_ want. But marrying another woman was not one of them, not when the heir was a woman as well.

She had wanted Anna so much that she would place Arendelle's future in jeopardy and had willfully taken away Anna's choice in marriage. And since Anna's own feelings on duty had recently been brought to light, it was even more important that she give Anna choices. The fact that things had gotten this far before she could give Anna the right to choose was just another weight on her back and she felt undeserving for the gift that Anna was to her. She needed to do her part to fix everything.

"Do you know why your father arranged the marriage, Elsa?"

That surprised a mirthless laugh out of her. "No. No, I don't. I thought I would have more time to ask, but of course—" She didn't even bother to finish the thought.

"Do you know why your parents married, then?"

Elsa frowned at Alice. It was a strange question, one that she had never really considered. "I imagine because they loved each other?" She answered, tentative. Her parents had never spoken much of their pasts aside from impersonal family histories that her tutor could have told her. "Why?"

Alice's face remained inscrutable as a sphinx's. "Well, I suppose it's to be expected they would not have told you details of their marriage. It wasn't exactly… proper."

She suddenly felt uneasy about where the current conversation track was heading. Whatever it was, the phrase "not proper" never boded well. Did she _want_ to know? This was her parents' past, and one they'd obviously never seen fit to make her privy to.

"When Alexander was much younger, just a bit older than you now, he wasn't… He was quite different then." Alice frowned a little. "I suppose one couldn't fault him for that. He was like several young men who had wealth and influence. He'd already been crowned king and needed a queen."

There was something familiar in this story now, like a nudge in the right direction. "I recall… this is the reason why the Duke of Weselton dislikes Arendelle, isn't it?" Elsa's brow furrowed as she tried to remember. "My father had mentioned this once when we were meeting the duke for an appointment. He said… he'd once been expected to marry Weselton's daughter, but had married my mother instead. And the duke had not taken kindly to the rebuff, but Weselton's fortunes relied on Arendelle and he could not break ties."

Alice nodded. "That's right. There were not very many choices available at the time and Weselton's daughter was the most… let's say she was the most suitable choice. As far as I can recall, Lady Olivia was not objectionable in any way. Quiet, pretty, though having Weselton as father-in-law, well, that would be a trial on its own, but her dowry was immense." Alice's brown eyes, Kristoff's eyes, began to unfocus a little as she reminisced. "Weselton was set on marrying Lady Olivia into royalty and joining his wealth with Arendelle's. Greedy little man."

Elsa privately concurred with her mother-in-law's assessment of the old duke; she had not liked him in what few meetings she'd attended with her father.

"In any case, he set Lady Olivia to attract Alexander and just about everyone expected him to marry her. There was just no reason not to. The marriage would have benefitted both Arendelle and Weselton."

"Then my father met my mother?"

"Then he met Marina, yes," Alice affirmed. "We were all gathered in Corona and Alexander met Marina there. You know your mother's family history. Her father was a baron, not particularly wealthy or well-known, but… I suppose I shall have to repeat the same adjective. Marina was not objectionable either, but Lady Olivia was much more suitable for a king. A baron does not compare to a duke, especially a rich and influential one."

Elsa wondered where this tale was going, though it was distracting her from the subject of annulment. "So, why did he decide to marry my mother?"

"There was an affair," Alice said bluntly.

Elsa blinked. Had she heard the words right? Had Alice just said—"What?"

"Your mother and father had an affair."

"No," Elsa said immediately, even though her father had never mentioned any such thing. But not mentioning didn't mean it had never happened either, came the traitorous thought. "My father would never have done that, and neither would my mother. They—"

"Elsa." Alice's eyes were kind and understanding and it made her shut her mouth. "I was there when it happened. I saw the way they looked at each other. Marina confirmed it to me."

"But why didn't—why didn't he just _marry_ her—" Elsa could feel the shock in her very bones. An _affair_? Good god. It was…it was… She didn't know what to think. She felt like she'd just been walloped over the head with a heavy tome and had lost all of her wits. Her parents, her proper parents who didn't look as though—she stopped the thought before she could regret it. It was a shock. There. It was just a great shock to think of her parents in… that way. It was an instinctive recoil any child would feel pondering their parents in even a vague sexual context. Elsa shuddered, mortified.

"I'm given to believe there was a great deal of passion involved," Alice said, her tone bland in contrast to the stupefied state Elsa was languishing in. "Besides, you don't need to be married to have sex, Elsa, really." Alice sounded more amused than she had any right to be.

Elsa closed her eyes. "Aunt," she warned. "I'm sorry if I was raised to believe that one shouldn't… not until, that is…" Good god, maybe she was a prude. Anna would laugh at her.

Alice laughed. "Of course, it's not proper, but people still do it. In any case, the affair went on for, oh, I don't know, probably several weeks? I don't think anybody had seen it at all, they were so discreet about it. Goodness, I was Marina's best friend and I had barely caught on. Granted, Frederick was courting me at the time, so I confess that my attention may have been split."

"They married soon after?" Elsa hoped they did. An affair. God.

"Oh, they did. But it wasn't because they were found out or one of them finally gave in and asked. Your father got Marina with child."

It was another shock, another assault on her brain with a large book. She didn't even know what to say, simply staring at Marina while her jaw worked, no words emerging.

"Oh, my god," Elsa finally managed. She couldn't think of anything else that could adequately describe what Alice had just said other than to invoke a deity. An affair that had led to a pregnancy. _Oh, my god_.

"Quite," Alice agreed. "And the only wise thing to do in that situation would be to wed. Your father asked then."

"Oh. Good," Elsa said, not really sure if it was good. Well, it had to be. Her father had to take responsibility for his actions. Of course it was good.

"Your mother refused."

Elsa closed her eyes now. Nothing could shock her now, she thought. Nothing. "Why?"

"I believe your mother's exact words were, 'That bastard _ordered_ me to marry him.'"

That part actually sounded like her father, but still! Her mother was pregnant, for god's sake, and ladies who found themselves pregnant were either quickly and discreetly married off or sequestered into some far-flung convent by their family. "So, it was a matter of pride?"

Alice nodded. "I think she was quite upset at the time. Upset and afraid, but she didn't want to marry just because she had to. She…" Alice gave a soft laugh. "My god, I think she wanted true love. Even though she was on the brink of every kind of ruin a woman could face, she wanted that."

"Was… did my father love her? Or my mother him?" She hoped dearly he did because with the way Alice was recounting the events, all they'd wanted was to go at it like animals.

"I think he did, but I don't think he told her. But with the way the entire thing went on, I wouldn't have been surprised if Marina had thrown the confession back in his face if he had told her. As for your mother… I think she did love him as well, but they were both so angry with each other, and with the situation." Alice pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh. "I don't think they really knew one another. They couldn't have known each other for more than a handful of balls and parties. And someone getting pregnant was hardly the best start."

Elsa wanted to make an embarrassed sound, but she stifled it before it could come up. An affair and a pregnancy. It was all so… sordid. A word she would never have associated with her parents.

"The longer Marina refused him, the more desperate Alexander grew. He was determined to marry her and remove themselves from Corona," Alice continued, looking a bit more composed. "I still remember how both of them became quite unbearable company with how they sniped at each other, or about each other, even in public. Of course, I couldn't breathe a word of this to anyone, so I had to bear all these damned secrets in silence. I really had no idea what to do. To be honest, I wanted to slap the sense back into both of them."

"I'm sorry," Elsa said awkwardly, feeling strangely obligated to apologize for her parents' poor conduct. Alice waved it off.

"Hardly your fault, dear. In any case, they eventually married, to the surprise of everyone. Weselton was furious, of course. But they wed quite quickly and the matter was closed. I can't say it was a happy union, though. They both still looked like they'd have liked nothing more than to strangle each other, even at the private ceremony Alexander had arranged. Nonetheless, Alexander returned to Arendelle with Marina as his bride."

Elsa breathed out. A somewhat happy ending, at least. "And I presume that I was the result of that?" She asked, bracing herself once again for more revelations.

Alice hesitated. "Not quite. The child… Marina, that is… There was a miscarriage. Marina was about three months or so along when it happened."

Not a happy ending. Elsa could feel the blood draining out of her head, leaving her face disconcertingly numb. "Jesus."

"Some women simply aren't meant to have children," Alice said, sorrow deepening the faint lines in her face. "And Marina was one of them. The loss was… it was a very deep blow. For both of them."

It had to have been. It was the sole reason they'd married, going by what Alice had just said, unless her parents had finally found their wits and stopped hurting each other. God, the entire thing really was so sordid. Sordid and sad. Had anyone else told her this story, she would have laughed because it sounded so beneath the dignified people she remembered her parents as—but it all did have a distinctly human ring to it. Her parents were human as well. While Elsa didn't know how she should really feel or think about it, she did know that her heart ached for the anguish they'd been dealt.

"Whatever enmity there was between them, that loss swept it away," Alice continued. "It… united them. I do believe they were much better for it, as awful as the idea is. They tried again, of course, to have more children. There were more miscarriages."

Elsa wanted to put her head down into her hands. Her heart ached more. More miscarriages. More tragedy. "How many?"

"I don't know for sure. Enough to turn both of them into different people. But then they tried once more and that was you." Alice breathed out. "They were beyond ecstatic, as you can imagine. I remember how cautiously hopeful they were once Marina was beyond four months. The doctors had said if she could carry the child to term by the fourth month, the likelihood of miscarriage lessened."

She exhaled, deep and weary. "I was born two months premature."

"Yes. And the royal physician advised your parents not to try anymore. Your mother's health was quite weak at that point, to say nothing of the emotional pain she had endured already. Another could very well kill her."

This time, Elsa did put the heels of her hands to her eyes, tilting her head back as she leaned against the settee. "My god." But she realized she wasn't the reason why there weren't any more children. It wasn't because of her powers, not because her parents feared that another child would inherit the same curse.

It wasn't because of her.

The relief was so great, she was light-headed with it. It wasn't her fault, but the catharsis was also bittersweet. Her mother had been rendered barren for it. Elsa could not imagine the pain her parents had endured.

"I wish they had told me," Elsa finally said, her hands falling limply to her lap. "I understand why they hadn't, but… I wish I had known."

"It's not something a parent tells their child," Alice said gently. "Marina took the news very hard. She needed to produce a male heir and she felt that she had failed in that regard."

Elsa flinched. It was a mirror of her current situation, almost.

"Alexander refused to attempt more. They loved each other very much at this point if Marina's letters were anything to go by. But Marina knew her duty to Arendelle and… Well, she gave Alexander leave to take a mistress, to put it bluntly. For the sake of a son."

She had to turn away, her face tight. She had no idea what to say to that, but her mother giving permission to… "I wish I had known," she said instead, because her wits felt dull from the barrage of revelations.

"They would never have had any reason to tell you, Elsa," Alice said, leaning over the low table to place a gentle hand over her knee in comfort. "As I said, this is not something any parent tells their child. And if it helps, I am the only one who knows of this. Not even Frederick is aware of the entire story. Marina told me everything in confidence."

Elsa shuddered, as though she could not absorb the enormity of how much she did not know about her own family. So many secrets. "Did my father do it? Did he… did he…"

"No, of course not," Alice said, withdrawing back to her seat. "But it was a difficult decision for them. Alexander was a much different man by then. He wasn't anything like that man who'd carried on an affair with an unwed woman in Corona. This happened just a few years after their wedding and Alexander never told me his side of any of this, but he loved your mother very much. I think such a decision to consider, even for the sake of family legacy and royal duty, would have weighed heavily on him. Knowing your father, though… I think he'd have felt ashamed to have considered it in the first place. To consider hurting Marina more, after all they'd gone through."

"I don't know what to think of this." Her elbows on her knees, Elsa dropped her face into her hands. She felt overwhelmed with the enormity of all the uncovered family secrets. "This is… this is too much. Why are you telling me this?"

Alice rose, rounded the low table and sat next to Elsa, wrapping a comforting arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "Well, as I said, I find it distressing to see this happening again, and to the only child of my deceased friends. I am surprised, though, that your father never said why he wanted the betrothal. Did he truly say nothing about it?"

Elsa shook her head, face still buried in her palms. "No. He just said the matter was decided for the moment and we would speak more of it when I was older." She had been sixteen at the time and hadn't the courage to push.

Alice laughed, surprised. "Oh, that does sound like him. He never did lose all of his imperious manner." Alice rubbed her hand along Elsa's back in comfort, the gesture so motherly that Elsa wanted to cry. "Well, now you know. He and Marina were so unhappy at the beginning. They, well, they really were strangers to each other, and there were so many things that went wrong that it was a miracle that anything could be properly addressed. I must say, I learned a bit from them and made sure Frederick and I knew each other well before we went anywhere near an altar or bedroom," Alice said, smiling more now.

"But I don't understand—I never told anyone about—not about Anna—" Then she realized what she was saying and she clamped her mouth shut. She had never initiated conversation about her feelings for Anna. People always started talking about how she loved Anna, which was true, but there were different kinds of love and she'd been content to just let everybody assume what variety of it she felt—and most assumed friendship. She had never confirmed nor denied it because doing either would mean admitting out loud how she truly felt and leaving it ambiguous seemed like a sort of shield against that. A distance between truth and reality—truth of what she felt, and reality that those emotions wouldn't ever really be returned.

"Well, I have no idea how much your father knew or how he found out, but I thought it was rather painfully obvious," Alice said with a trace of humor. "You could never take your eyes off Anna when you were in the same room as her."

Painfully obvious? _Painfully obvious?_ There was no way for her to confirm if she really had been that transparent. Evidently, everybody but herself and Anna knew. She would have prayed to let the floor swallow her up and send her straight to China if her mind wasn't still reeling from a heady mix of relief, confusion, and shock.

"But Arendelle," Elsa whispered. "My father always told me it was my duty to see to the future of the kingdom."

"If you are referring to heirs, adoption solves that quite neatly."

"No, inheritances can be invalidated," Elsa protested. "They're not as indisputable as bloodlines."

"I thought your father took care of that."

Elsa stared at Alice. "Took care of what?"

"The inheritance laws," Alice said, blinking back at her. "Goodness, did Alexander really say nothing at all to you? I hadn't meant that literally. He was working on strengthening the inheritance laws in favor of adopted family members. At least that's what Marina had said to me before they passed."

Elsa's jaw was hanging embarrassingly wide open. Too many shocks. Far too many. She couldn't handle all of them. She was only human, too. Her father had wanted her to be happy. He hadn't decided to end the family line with her. He had wanted her to adopt. The clause removal wasn't meant to prevent her from having children. She had never had siblings because her mother simply couldn't bear more. And it wasn't her fault.

It was a dream, Elsa decided. It had to be a dream. It couldn't be real. She had married Anna yesterday and every burden she'd ever shouldered, every worry that she'd failed in some way, that she'd hurt her family somehow, just by existing, was all being swept away. It was either a dream or someone had slipped something into her coffee and she was experiencing an excellent hallucination.

"Elsa?" Came Alice's voice, distant, but clear. "I understand this must come as a shock to you, but I tell you it now because you seem to be laboring under several false assumptions," Alice said, rather unnecessarily, to Elsa's mind. "You are very much like your mother and father. They thought you would be too dutiful."

"Too dutiful?"

"Would you have ever married Anna otherwise?" Alice asked, kindly. "No, I didn't think so," she continued, the answer apparently written all over Elsa's face. "You would have married someone else who was… more suitable. Too much like both of your parents with the rigid adherence to duty and martyrdom. Not your fault, of course, I imagine you just learned Alexander's lessons too well."

Could one learn a lesson too well? Elsa had always strived for excellence in everything she did, barring riding, because she was an exception by her gender alone. She needed to prove that she could be just as capable as a man, even if her father had never said she needed to.

"It wasn't duty that made them have an affair, though," Elsa muttered without thinking.

Alice laughed at that. "They were young back then. People change, as I'm sure you and Anna are discovering. You've changed quite a bit since I last saw you, dear, though you're still the same in other ways. The self-sacrifice, for one."

Elsa straightened and scrubbed her hands over her face. She felt exhausted again. "I wish I'd known all this," she said again. "My father seemed to have counted on having more time to explain things to me. I've… acted and made decisions blindly, it seems."

"Not your fault, dear." Alice smiled. "We all do things thinking we have more time."

"Thank you for telling me, Aunt," Elsa said, quietly heartfelt. She was still a bit dazed, though. There was a great deal to mull over. Her head ached in anticipation of all the brooding she was probably going to do.

"Now, no more talk of annulment. Elsa, you _are _allowed to be happy, you know," Alice said firmly.

Elsa shifted uneasily. "That's not quite the end of it. I… I still want to give that option to Anna. Even if I am… allowed, I still—I still took away Anna's choice."

"Anna agreed to the betrothal," Alice said. "We did ask her before we accepted it."

"She was hardly more than a girl then. Her feelings could have changed since then."

"Have you asked her, then?"

Elsa swallowed. "Not yet. I told her I would tomorrow."

"Then we'll see tomorrow, won't we?" Alice said, as though the matter was already settled. "My god, Elsa, you haven't even told Anna of all these decisions you're already trying to make. That's hardly fair. And you should sleep, dear. You've had a long day."

It was so motherly again, being comforted and told to rest. Elsa found herself missing her parents keenly and leaning into Alice just a little. She wasn't going to be getting any sleep no matter how tired she felt.

"I'll see you to your room," Elsa said. She had started to rise when Alice stopped her.

"No, I'm not off yet," Alice said. "I need to have a word with Frederick about allowing you to add that ridiculous amendment."

"I really did push him," Elsa said, straightening up to meet Alice's eyes. "When I went to Corona. A year ago."

Alice's brows lifted. "You were in Corona? Was this a secret meeting?"

"Something like that. Please don't mention it to Anna." Frederick had been right—she had been too cowardly to face Anna then. She'd been worried that if she'd seen Anna that she might change her mind about… everything. "I'll tell her everything tomorrow. You have my word."

Alice nodded and brushed a hand over the top of Elsa's head, just as she would her own child. "Then I'll see myself out. Please don't make the same mistakes your parents did when they were younger. It took them years to get out of it, and it was very difficult. _Talk_ to Anna."

Elsa exhaled. "I will."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to somonastic for her help beta-ing this chapter!


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